


Losing Control

by actuallymaryj



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Harley Quinn (2017), DC Extended Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (past) - Freeform, Aftercare, Blowjobs, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kinda, Mentions of past abuse, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Angst, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sex, Slow Build, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, eventually, future batfam???, see notes for individual chapter warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallymaryj/pseuds/actuallymaryj
Summary: "It wasn't the worst thing either of them had done, of that Harley was certain, but it sure as shit might be the dumbest."ORNightwing and Harley are a one time thing- until they're not.





	1. Preface: Playing Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first ever fic so please be gentle. A few notes to introduce you to my slice of the DCU:  
> 1\. All descriptions & backstories are a crapshoot if what I like between all canon medias, so you really only need to know the basics. The preface opens in a *slightly* distorted version of their sex scene. I've fudged the timelines, especially in terms of the Joker (who I love, but needs to stay away from our girl).  
> 2\. This brings us to Harley. She's a bit younger in this than canon, but I explain it by the end of the first full chapter. This is because I both wanted to play with the idea of Joker using age to further his power over Harley (this comes from in the animated series when he calls her "the kid" to Batman after he throws her out the window) as well as me wanting to more directly parallel Robin!Dick and Harley by make them closer in age. Her appearance is kinda Margot-based but i edit a heavy amount of David Ayer from her looks and personality. She has a handfull of tattoos, most of which I'll end up explicitly mentioning so you don't have to imagine one of those doodle bears. (I also have a pinterest aesthetic board I'll link if I get requests)  
> 3\. Dick Greyson. Look, I know I know I KNOW his eyes are blue in 99.9% of cannon but Brenton Thwaites is hot don't @ me  
> 4\. That being said, I'm not watching Titans, but seeing the Robin x Dove sex scene made me feel bleh so I wrote this bc if Dick's getting laid and it's not Kory my brain automatically goes to Harley  
> 5\. Work title is from the song "Losing Control" by Russ, chapter title "Playing Dangerous" by Lana Del Rey. Hope you enjoy!!

It wasn't the _worst_ thing either of them had done, of that Harley was certain, but it sure as shit might be the dumbest. But Harley was lonely, and bored, and Bats Junior was there and cute and even when she had been with Mr. J (who had, ironically, kicked her in the face last time they'd seen each other) he was always still nice to her when he was done taking her down. When he'd shown up Harley didn't intend to fight the guy, let alone sleep with him, but then he'd brought up her waitressing and psychiatry and the sting of the rejection letters was still fresh and to top it all off he'd called her _crazy_ and so she'd swung on impulse.

 

But, as usual when she saw all black and red, the moments after it cleared she was flooded with something even more instant than instant regret. So, she had a knocked-out Bird Boy in her alley with the Big Guy likely to show up any minute and work had been pain in the ass enough without _this_ _shit_.

 

Huffing and grumbling she'd hefted Nightwing over her shoulder, actually grateful to her henchwoman days for the strength to drag all six-foot-something of Nightwing's muscle and tights up to her apartment. Once she got their butts up there though the mystery of what the holy hell to do with the guy only grew. Eventually, she dug up a roll of duct tape from her craft drawer and moved him to her bed, where she used more tape than probably strictly necessary to hold him down- but she'd faced down B-Man enough to know that there was no such thing as overkill with these vigilante types.

 

Out from under the Joker's thumb, she liked to think of herself as sane-enough but that didn't mean talking to herself didn't still help. It had become a regular habit with Pam, though sometimes she was pretty sure her ex-girlfriend had partially encouraged it because her rants could feed a greenhouse for a month. Regardless, it helped. Out loud, she rattled off the facts of her situation and some worries and ideas and somewhere in the mix of it Nightwing started groaning himself awake. His short curls were a mess of tangles and sweat and she could see a bruise from one of her hits darkening around the edges of his mask. This close she was startled that she could see his eyes were all big and brown and sweet like a puppy dog- _damnit_ _Harleen_ _get_ _it_ _together_.

 

"Don't bother screamin'. This dump is condemned." Her voice was thankfully more light and breezy than she felt as she gestured to her tiny apartment. She didn't feel breezy, she felt like the Hurricane Harley she'd been before and it was picking at something ragged in her chest. "Nobody in the whole building but you and me, Nightwig."

 

He leveled an unimpressed glare her way that made her happy he was all tied up. "Nightwing."

 

She huffed, not letting herself be embarrassed for forgetting some dorks code name- it's part of why she'd gotten out of the tights game in the first place. Names were hard to remember as it was without adding masks and capes. "Really? I must've been thinking about that goofy mullet you used to have. Yeesh, that was like a whole _decade_ of bad-hair days. That was you, right? Former Robin, once upon a time?"

 

He at least had the good graces to look embarrassed at the mullet's memory. "I had a mullet for like a month."

 

She couldn't help the smile pulling her lips. "Takin' that as a 'yes'. Well look at Boy Wonder, all grown up." As she let her gaze drag over him the joke dried up in her mouth. She always flirted because it was funny or she wanted the Joker's attention or because she liked making the heroes uncomfortable with sexy talk, but he was actually really cute. He wasn't prison-yard tough like Joker or body builder huge like Batman, but more lithe, like the gymnasts she'd picked up her skills from. Even through the get-up his muscles were so defined she felt like a slouch despite having waitressed doubles the last three days. She shook herself out of it by walking over to her closet and flinging the doors open for no reason other than to hear them thud against the wall.

 

"And yet you haven't changed at all, Harley."

 

She tensed, teeth peeling back from her lips despite her back being to him. _She_ _was_ not _the_ _same_ _old_ _Harley_. She wasn't- but the same anger climbed her throat as she spun on Nightwing. "Haven't changed, huh? So becomin a freakin' waitress counts for nothing? Leaving the Joker, that was _nothing_!?" Nightwing actually winces at that but she isn't done. "You come here all high n' mighty, talkin about my job and whatnot-" She snatched the rejection letters from the top her dresser and waved them in his face. "Every clinic, every hospital, every goddamn website apparently has rules about hiring ex-costumed supervillans, even just the sidekicks."

 

He frowned but still tried to rebound. "Well, there are other jobs..."

 

Then her smile is vicious and painful and patented Wacko-Harley but she couldn't help it. "Oh sure, I've got a ton of offers." She read a few aloud. "'We've got a very special role for you in 'Bad Girls After Dark'.' And you've gotta love this one, 'A tasteful pictorial to be shot in Thailand for _legal_ _reasons_ '." Nightwing's eyes fall from hers. "No matter what I do, you say I'm a criminal, they say I'm a whore. Well I'm _sick_ of other people telling me who I am. Joker, Pammie, even you and the Bat!" The ragged bit of her chest punched out at her and she spun so Nightwing couldn't see that old anger crumble her face.

 

"Harley..."

 

"Whatever." She started peeling off her dress and heading back to her closet in her underwear, pretending she was shedding the tension in the air with her outfit. Her anger disappeared, the tension didn't.

 

There was a moment of silence as she dug around before Nightwing tried again. "Really, I didn't mean to-" He seemed to choke on his words and Harley spun from where she'd bent over to inspect the lower rack of her closet to check on him but he looked fine- more than fine, actually. A tent had formed in the neat lines of his suit and his gaze was still low enough before it flickered to her face that she got the general idea of where he'd been staring before he'd been caught. Quick as she'd ever seen him move, he turned his head away from her entirely and shut his eyes.

 

Her heart jackrabbited in response. _Oh_.

 

"Ya know..."

 

"Don't be getting any funny ideas, Harley." His voice lacked its normal note of finality. His control was slipping, she realized with half wonder and half delight.

 

"Too late for that, Sugar." His dark eyes tracked her as she flicked off the light with an intensity that had her knees doing something funny. "I've got ideas aplenty."

 

"Look, Harley-"

 

"Pretty lonely the last few months. I don't meet many likely prospects at work." She climbed onto the bed like she wasn't worried about her heart pounding out of her chest and slid a leg on either side of his lap so she was straddling him. His breath deepened as his body unconsciously pulled closer to hers. She ran a finger down his chest. "I'm kinda choose-y."

 

"Me too," Nightwing said, not unkindly. Not implying she didn't meet his standards but simply agreeing, she realized with a start. She had never met someone's standards before, that she could remember. But then he blinked and suddenly that's not all he had to say. "I'm not saying I don't want to, because... that could be nice. Wrong- but nice. I just really need to-"

 

A hand flew up to cover his mouth. "Listen, These mission-y things you go on are dangerous , right? Something could happen to you?"

 

Nightwing didn't hesitate to nod and that made her lips purse in what she could only figure was frustration with him for making her wait.

 

"If I go with you I could get hurt, too?" He nodded again, more slowly this time. "Then if you're going, and you need me to go with you, and the world isn't going to end _right_ _now_... I don't see why we can't both get what we want."

 

Slowly, so he had time to object, she lowered herself so she's fully seated on his lap and ground her hips forward in a single deliberate motion that had Nightwings lips parting in a shaky exhale. "Whatcha think?"

 

"I think I'm going to need my hands for this." His dark gaze caught and held her wide blue eyes for a long moment. Even though she knew as soon as she cut him loose he'd be gone, she figured letting him think he'd tricked her into letting him go was a million times better than raping someone for her pride. She leaned over to her nightstand, pulling out a a switchblade at random. She started at his ankles, mostly because she didn't want him to go, but moved quickly to cut him free as if she wasn't disappointed.

 

However, instead of throwing her off of him and running out the door like she expected, he grabbed her face and crashed their lips together. A startled mix between a gasp and a moan escaped her before she's kissing him back and he's pulling her hair loose from its pigtails to grab handfuls of her long blonde hair like a lifeline.

 

Despite him being the one who was just tied up, it's her who's hands were being _useless_. She didn't know where to put them or where to grab on his stupid getup to get his clothes _off_ _off_ _off_ \- "How do I-?"

 

"Belt," Nightwing offered, kissing the heart tattoo on her cheek before mouthing along her jaw and throat. She fumbled with his utility belt for all of five seconds before his tongue grazed the pulse point in her neck and she gave up in favor of bucking helplessly against him. He grabbed her hips to help her gain a little friction for a minute before he nipped her collar bone and stripped his belt with an efficiency that had her head spinning. As soon as he had pulled the top of his costume from whatever secured it to the bottom half she pounced in and shoved his shirt out of the damn way, fumbling in her haste. This time when Nightwing chuckled she noticed a dimple in his cheek she never had before and gave into the impulse to caress his cheek, press a thumb to the crease. "Harley I said yes, I'm not going anywhere."

 

She shushed him because he was being annoyingly cute and also just annoying. He accepted her dismissal with another grin and wrapped his arms around her, palms sliding up her back in a way that had her arching and he used the opportunity to kiss down her chest and the tops of her breasts, teasing the nipple with too-light sweeps of his tongue under the edge of the cups. A needy sigh from her had his right hand skirting up farther to unhook her bra while the left gently ran her backs length, caressing. She dragged her nails down his chest, delighting in the hitch to his breathing when she brushed over his nipples before he one-upped her and dragged her closer still so he could nip and suck at her now bare chest. She swore and tipped her head back to give him better access and he wrapped a gentle hand around the back of her head, taking the strain off her neck while giving her more momentum to arch into him.

 

Then, suddenly, she was under him and he was kissing down her ribs and stomach, giving attention to every stray scar and stretch mark, even the one from a failed belly-button piercing she'd gotten at fifteen that had nothing to do with Gotham vigilantes or villains. When he pressed her down to the mattress with one hand on her hip and the other taking off her panties she was almost nervous from the intensity in his brown eyes. She was definitely nervous when he didn't come back up to line themselves up, and instead started kissing her hips, then her thighs.

 

"What are you doing?" She hated the rushed squeak of fear in her voice but long enough with the Joker taught her to question someone poking around downstairs.

 

His brows furrowed for a second, creasing the domino mask between his eyes, before a softer expression smoothed it out. "If you tell me to stop I will, Harley. I want to make that very, very clear." She only hesitated a moment before nodding but she was still biting her lip and he was still rubbing soothing little circles by her knee with his thumb. "I was thinking of doing something I think will be fun for both of us. Is that okay?" Her brain's lack of warning signs didn't help Harley's decision, as they hadn't existed when she'd first met a certain Prince of Crime either. But Nightwing had said he would stop, and that was more than anyone had ever given her, so she nodded once more at the man that wasn't quite her enemy.

 

Seeming to realize her hesitation, Nightwing was slow and precise in his movements as he kissed her left hip again before spreading her legs, draping one over his shoulder, and continuing his ministrations on her thighs until she couldn't help but squirm. As if that were exactly what he was waiting for, he finally spread her open and looked up at her before nosing her center once, then twice, gently, drawing a shiver from her spine. His eyes held hers as he uses the flat of his tongue to lick her all the way up before flicking his tongue in this way that has her gasping and rolling her hips without meaning to which makes him get this downright _filthy_ littlesmile that she can't help but file away for later. After that he feasts on her like a starving man, his mouth moving against her like it was his own pleasure that he was chasing. His tongue probing her entrance had her seeing stars and she arched up off the bed into his waiting mouth until he was steadily fucking her with his tongue, his large hands splayed against her stomach in an effort to either hold her still or move her closer, she wasn't sure. As if he could feel the exact moment she needed a change, he replaced his tongue with his long fingers and moved his tongue further north. The subtle shift brought him just close enough for her to tangle her fingers in his hair, drawing a moan from him when her nails scratched his scalp. Two fingers pumped steadily inside her while he kissed and licked at her mercilessly until she was shaking and fisting one hand in his curls, one in the sheets.

 

"Harley," he groaned against her and she shattered like glass in his hands. He kept going through her orgasm until she grabbed at him with both hands and pulled him up her body with a desperately impatient need make him feel _that_. She tastes herself on his lips but couldn't really find it in herself to care when his tongue, the same tongue that was just fucking her senseless, brushed against her own and she feels him twitch against her.

 

"Holy hell," she panted and he laughed again. Harley raised her brows at him, gaze flickering to his annoyingly present pants. "Wanna explain to me why those are still on ya and I'm not?"

 

"Such a way with words," he threw back, but he was shoving his pants down his thighs as he did, so she counted it as a victory and grabbed a condom from the night stand (the drawer under the one filled with knives) before pushing him back onto the mattress. At least Pam had broken her of that- always going for the submissive position and turning her face away. Nightwing didn't just lay down, though, he propped himself up against the headboard and wrapped one arm around her waist to lift her up and align her before guiding her down his length.

 

Her brows pinched at first from the fullness of him spreading her, and Nightwing breathed through his moans enough to kiss the crease away. When she reached his base they both sighed and groaned, curling and tangling into one another like one of the ivy plants Pam took her moniker from.

 

"Shit," Harley moaned, grinding down out of pure instinct. Nightwing didn't seem to mind, his head rolling forward to rest on her shoulder as he grunted a mirroring sentiment. She started riding him slowly at first, drawing out every push and pull they gave each other until Nightwings head tipped back off her shoulder and his dark eyes met hers and they let the pace build until his hips were snapping into hers as she rolled her hips against him with a desperate moan that had him pulling her in to kiss her lips, her cheek, her temple. She's amazed at how he can be so talkative without missing a beat, peppering her with encouragements, or questions about how she liked something, or asking if she was coming (which, if he asked, usually meant yes), and if yes he offered only more sweet coaxing. She thought she had experienced all kinds of sex, amazing and awful, but that was a new one. No one had ever seemed to get just as much out of her orgasm as their own like Nightwing did.

 

When her legs started shaking from exertion, Nightwing asked if he could lay her down which she nodded to now only because she couldn't think straight enough to say yes or even care, as long as he didn't stop moving. It was the right move, because once he had the proper angle, he used the thumb of his free hand to rub circles at her peak until she was clenching around him and dragging her nails down his back probably tougher than she meant to. But, instead of crying out in pain, he rewarded her with a moan from deep in his throat. Somehow that had her orgasming all over again, this time with him not far behind, moaning her name into her shoulder as he almost definitely gave her a hickey that she couldn't find it in herself to not like, if only as proof for herself later, when she was alone.

 

They laid for a moment like that, tangled and breathing each other in until Harley realized his scent- sweat and clean clothes and spirit gum adhesive- wasn't hers to savor. This was a one-time stress relief. She hadn't been with anyone since that rando after her and Pam called it quits, so she was lonely and upset because work was garbage and so she'd slept with a cute guy. A guy who happened to wear a mask and tights and beat up thugs in his free time. Who, it also happened, she only knew as said masked crime fighter. She could almost hear Pam's voice in her head, her pitying little, " _Oh_ , _Harl_..."

 

As soon as he shifted over she rolled to stand, to think, but he stopped her with a hand on the small of her back and a raised brow. She gave him a small smile that he returned, and her chest hurt. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to be caught with my pants down when Bats shows up lookin for you."

 

And like she had flipped a switch, Nightwing was moving around the room, disposing of the condom before gathering his clothes. He was so laughably frantic it distracted her from washing up. Well, that and his ass. That was pretty distracting too, if she was being fair.

 

"Harley," He had scolded without having to look at her. As if he knew she was just staring as he tugged on the bottom half of his costume. "What happened to pants?"

 

And so the fun had ended.


	2. Middle of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter has mentions of past abuse and implied rape/ non-con involving the Joker.* 
> 
> I've edited the title of chapter one to reflect a new theme I'm going for where I use songs that remind me of Harleywing that i write to. 
> 
> This chapter it's "Middle of the Night" by 100s, which i listened during the smut scenes because it's such an amusing yet sexy song it just works for these two's personalities 
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. feel free to play spot the brooklyn nine-nine reference

 

 

 

After their mission, Harley doesn't worry herself about Batman or Nightwing for a few weeks. She tells Nightwing before they part ways that their romp is a one time thing, and not to think about it anymore and he agrees. With the exception of the occasional satisfied glance at her kiss-bruised neck, she doesn't think about it, either. Doesn't let herself, is more like it, but it helps that work is ridiculously under staffed and she's knee deep in appointments to sort out some functional medication situation that worked for a post-traumatic loony like her.

 

It's funny, she always thought meds weren't for her until she realized she is exactly who meds were invented for. So she's trying, _really_ _trying_ , this time, to be good. And that is why she's more than a little peeved that all of her progress is about to be ruined by some goon following her home.

 

Again.

 

This time it isn't Nightwing. She can tell that right off the bat, no pun intended, just by the fact that she could hear the dumbass scuffing his feet half a block back. That's her first clue, the second is the fact that the guy was on the ground and not hopping around rooftops, although Harley is pretty good about regularly checking those, too. A part of her, not just the part that doesn't want to deal with some creep, wishes it was Nightwing. She's feeling the itch again and has a feeling finding a random pickup won't be able to scratch it. That doesn't mean she can't try another form of stress relief.

 

"My therapist did tell me to exercises regularly," she grumbles under her breath as she starts splitting her hair into hasty low pigtails. She takes a wrong turn the next chance she gets, determined not to lead the guy back to her hidey-hole. The next turn she takes after that is into an alley, where she picks up her pace to search the ground for a suitable weapon before she's cornered.

 

"Harley Quinn, you are a tough woman to find." The jerk is gloating all grandiose for blocking her in as he strides down the alley, as if that hadn't been her own design.

 

"Yeah I've heard that one before, pal." She whirls on him and strikes out with the wood plank she'd picked up. But he's expecting an attack, and jumps back before she can connect which just makes her own momentum spin her out. She goes careening toward a wall, before she catches her balance enough to spin and strike again. But she's been working for eight hours and was exhausted before she even left the restaurant and this guy is just getting started. With almost embarrassing ease he knocks her weapon from her hands and backhands her hard across the mouth, splitting her lip and immediately coating her tongue in blood. They spar for a few minutes, but before she knew it he has her pinned to the wall by her throat with a choking grip and a knife.

 

She spits all the blood in her mouth at him. "What's the big idea, asshole?"

 

The man makes a noise of revulsion before slamming her against the wall like a rag doll so that her head bounces off the bricks. "Penguin wants to see you. Business proposition."

 

She swallows her cry of pain while her brain reorganizes itself to form an answer. "Tell him I said 'thanks but no thanks'. I'm out of the crime biz and even if I wasn't I don't take kindly to people who send their dogs after me. Especially the ones who're too stupid to keep their paws to themselves."

 

The man tightens his grip around her throat, cutting off air. "Listen, you crazy little bitch. Just come quietly and-"

 

"Quietly?" A voice is calling from the end of the alley. The dark spots tunneling her vision make it impossible to see who it is but she's sure she knows that voice. "You've clearly never met Ms Quinn before."

 

And then she can miraculously breathe again. Sinking to the ground, she gasps and coughs her lungs into order as a fight goes on somewhere to her right. She had been choked out plenty of times, so finding her bearings enough to click the spike coated in low-grade Joker Venom out of her ring is more muscle memory than anything. Even still, crawling toward the entrance of the alley is a difficult endeavor when her vision is still rippling back and her full lung capacity is even further out of grasp.

 

"Harley." A face is floating in front of her now, but oh, it's got arms too and they're helping her to her feet, taking care to avoid the spike. "Look at me. Did you hit your head?" A curse. "Do you know what day it is?"

 

"Nightwing...." She forces her eyes to focus on his, all big and concerned and staring at her. "Didn't you move your brooding ass to another city? What are you doing in Gotham?" When he just stares at her she sighs and tells him she's fine. He gives her a look that screams he doesn't believe a word out of her mouth, it was a look she'd gotten from Batman dozens of times. She likes it even less from Boy Wonder at the moment. "It's Saturday?" She adds, hoping that's the right answer since she genuinely didn't know what day it was before she had her eggs scrambled. While she remembers, she clicks the spike back into her ring.

 

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I don't still think you're bullshitting me. C'mon." He steers her toward the road, grabbing her by the elbow when she sways. Tapping on the side of his mask twice, a glowing lense covers his eyes, and then he's tilting the back of her head into his view. "Jesus, Harley, you're bleeding."

 

"Aw, worried about little ol' me?" Is what comes out of her mouth next because she doesn't really care about talking or bleeding, she just wants sleep, and desperately.

 

"Let's go, you need to get looked at-"

 

"No hospitals!" She's screeching before he can even finish his sentence. No, hospitals would call her parole officer, who she was doing just fine without. As it is she's only getting her meds sorted because a clinic in the downtown is friendlier toward ex-cons in exchange for a little protection from all the petty thieves in the area. She repeated herself, softer this time. "No hospitals."

 

Nightwing looks hesitant, but one look at the lump of the Penguin's henchman at their feet and he seems to dismiss any reservations he has. "Okay, okay, we can fix you up at your place, let's just get out of here. Can you walk?"

 

Her head is throbbing but her legs have gotten their blood flow back so she starts trudging toward the sidewalk without as much of a nod as she can muster. He's in step with her in an instant. Harley can feel his eyes on her, watching for any signs she was about to face plant, if she had to guess. "Ya know, you never answered my question."

 

"Huh? Oh, what I'm doing here?"

 

She huffed an affirmation. "Yeah. Pretty sure I heard that you took your masked vigilante routine over to Blüdhaven a long while back."

 

He coughed to cover a chuckle. "Yeah. I did. Didn't take my family with me though. I visit when I can so they don't hunt me down and accuse me of avoiding them." He steers her toward a motorcycle parked street-side before she can walk past it.

 

Her eyebrows fly toward her hairline. "Batman family or real family?"

 

He flips open a side pouch and starts digging around. Not unkindly, he replies, "Batman is my real family."

 

"But not by blood, right?" Harley doesn't know how old the Bat is but she's pretty sure he's not old enough to have a son Nightwing's age, let alone old enough to spawn the endless line of tween herolings that have since followed.

 

"No, not by blood. Get on." He hands her a helmet and she tries not to wince when it presses against the tender spot on the back of her head. He drives them the short distance left to her apartment and she tries not to think to much about how he had readjusted her grip to tighten it before they took off.

 

While he parks his bike she keeps up the conversation, if only to remain conscious (and because he hasn't stated ignoring her yet). "So if he's not your blood family, where's Mommy and Daddy Nightwing?"

 

He waits until they are climbing the stairs inside the building to answer. "You don't expect an address, do you?"

 

"What, you think I'm pulling on the tights one last time to harass good ol' ma and pops? No, I just want to understand what compels someone who looks like you to hide behind a mask and get beaten bloody."

 

"I like to think I do more beating than I get," he does that cough- laugh thing again as she unlocks her door. Just because the building is condemned doesn't mean people don't poke around. "But my parents aren't around."

 

Harley throws her purse haphazardly on the floor and lets Nightwing lead her to the bathroom and sit her down on the edge of the tub.

 

While he digs around under her sink, she thinks of her own mother, who she hadn't seen since before she left for college. "What, they run off and join the circus?"

 

Nightwing doesn't hide his genuine laugh this time, and she doesn't have time to wonder what was so funny because that dimple is back and it's very distracting. Too quickly, he sobers up. "No, no. They're, uh... they're deceased. They would have appreciated the joke though."

 

"Why is that?"

 

Nightwing hesitates, but tries to cover it with a satisfied hum when he finds painkillers to add to the little first-aid pile he was building. "The circus was my favorite place when I was little," he allows, but doesn't meet her eyes when he says it. She doesn't bother to supply that favorite place in her childhood had been her bedroom, and it hadn't had much besides a bed and dresser from Goodwill and a mountain of library books. Then he's shutting the cabinet doors and making her turn so he can look at her head. At first she whinges more than necessary, but then Nightwing is so profusely apologetic that it isn't funny anymore and so she's quiet until he tells her to turn so he can clean up her lip.

 

"Hey what's that?" Harley avoids Nightwing's intense gaze on her mouth by staring at the rest of him. And in her staring, she notices a dark wet patch on Nightwings shoulder. Leaning forward, she gives the spot a poke, only for Nightwing to give a hiss and recoil. Upon inspection, her poking-finger is wet with blood. "Hold on, are _you_ bleeding?"

 

"It's not deep, just a shallow puncture-"

 

"You got stabbed!?" Harley's voice is shrill even to her own ears. "You've been fussing over a bump on my head this whole time while you're sitting here bleeding out from being _stabbed_?"

 

Nightwing actually looks chastised, but she can't find it in herself to bask in the joy of it because the idiot got _stabbed_. "Lightly stabbed," he mumbles.

 

"Oh, so not the time for jokes, Wing Ding. Shirt. Off."

 

"Harley-"

 

"Don't make me get my fabric scissors."

 

With a sigh Nightwing starts pulling at his belt, then his top, until his injury prevents him from lifting his left arm any higher and she has to help. It's times like these she really hates remembering she used to try and actually kill the guy.

 

As someone who frequently needed first aid, Harley is prepared for more than scrapes and bruises, but she doesn't have anything to suture a literal stab wound with, so she does the best she can cleaning it and using those weird butterfly looking bandages she'd always thought were useless to try and get the cut mostly-closed before she starts slapping what is definitely a ridiculous amount of gauze and tape over the area. The whole time, even when her hands are unsteady, Nightwing sits completely still on the tubs edge, and she gets the distinct feeling he's been scolded for fidgeting while getting fixed up before. Harley can feel his eyes on her face, though, and she tries not to get all squirmy and hurt him.

 

"Do I got something on my face?" She asks as she's finishing up because it feels safer to ask when she can pretend to be busy packing up the bandaids and neosporin. Nightwing immediately clears his throat and shakes his head 'no'. But now the air feels thicker, charged, where it hadn't before. So she tries to make a joke. "Who would've thought it'd take a stabbing to get you shirtless in my place again."

 

 _Smooth_ , _dumbass_ , she scolds herself but he laughs. "I didn't think you wanted me shirtless in your place again."

 

"Maybe I've changed my mind," She hums and when she stands from putting everything away, he's standing right there behind her. She spins into him, unsure what to do with him so close so suddenly. He walks her backwards until her tailbone hits the sinks edge before leaning his hands on either side of her hips. If she was unsure before, then now she's fully short circuiting. "Why'd you come here- help me?" she whispers, afraid being too loud will make him disappear or something.

 

His smirk falters. "You were hurt, I would've done it for anyone."

 

Harley nods, not sure what she was expecting. "I get it, you're a terminal do-gooder." She shifts to move, but he doesn't drop his arms from where they cage her.

 

"Hey, that doesn't mean-" He gives a huff. "I care that it was you, Harley. That matters, too. Any past we have, good and bad, I've never wanted something bad to happen to you."

 

Her brain floods with a hundred scenarios where all she wanted was for something bad to happen to him, him and his family. God, she was _such_ a piece of shit. "How? After he- after _we_ spent literal years - even my entire twenty-first birthday - trying to destroy you and everything you love?" Nightwing's confused expression has her explaining, "The one when you guys stopped us at Penguins club?"

 

His expression doesn't change. "No, I know. But, you'd been with Joker for almost a year at that point. How were you his therapist in Arkham at twenty?"

 

"Ah, common misconception, Bird Boy," she teases because she knows he isn't going to like the truth. She knows Bats and even Nightwing well enough to know that the younger the victim, the angrier they got. _But_ _you're_ _not_ _a_ _victim_ , her brain sing-songs in response. And she wasn't a child. She huffs as if telling the story were more effort than it was worth. "I graduated high school all young, blah blah, got ahead in my credits and all that. Got into Graduate School at sixteen. I took my time there, finished by twenty. Then I got awarded, 'the internship of my dreams'. I was only supposed to try talking to him once, just to get the experience, then the rest of the six months was supposed to be the minimum-security patients. But, they had told me that this time he hadn't spoken a lick since being dragged back by Batman. They'd given up hope, figured it was best not to mess as long as the Joker wasn't a threat. And if he wasn't a threat, why not let the new girl take a whack at it? But then I tried and he _talked_. To me of all people. They assigned me to him permanently after that, figured they were giving me the experience of a lifetime. You know how it goes from there." She makes a ' _and_ _so_ _on_ ' gesture to try and relieve the tension she could feel rising in either the air or Nightwings body, it was hard to tell with him still so close.

 

"Damn it," he hisses under his breath before meeting her eyes again. "You were a kid, Harley."

 

She scoffs. "Like you can talk. You'd been running around with the Bat for almost a decade by the time I met Joker."

 

"It's different Harley, Batman never-"

 

"I know." She doesn't raise her voice, but he stops all the same. "I _know_. Just- please don't. It doesn't change nothin'." She doesn't understand how his face can be so expressive with that mask still on, but she can see his grimace before he steels his jaw and pretends to find her shoulder very interesting.

 

"I thought you just had a young face," he breathes eventually, hanging his head. "Didn't realize it was because you were barely older than I was."

 

He starts to pull away and she grabs him by the biceps. "Don't do that," she honest-to-god begs. "Don't you dare pity me, Nightwing. This doesn't change a damn thing," she repeats. "Our history is still what it is. The bad," she runs her hands up, over his shoulders and down his bare chest until she can feel his heart thumping against her palm. She feels it quicken when she leans closer. "the other stuff..." She noses at his cheek and his brow furrows in an expression she can't read. "I want you," she breathes into his ear. Sleep be damned. She lets all of her hunger and desperation play clearly on her face, long past the point of shame by a few years and an entire obsessive, abusive relationship. Harley can feel exhaustion of a whole other kind weighing heavy on her bones. She just really wants something to not hurt for once. "Same as before, nothing serious, I just-"

 

Nightwing shushes her, and searches her face for what seems like an eternity before nodding. As if he can see that ragged part of her chest that screams that she is a pathetic fool, he adds, "I want you, too, Harley."

 

She can feel her face crumble and hides it by crashing their lips together. His hands are cupping her face and it's too much for her, more than she deserves. She shivers, hands coming to fold over his. "Please," she whispers once more and then he's moving. His hands go to her hips, then thighs, before lifting her onto the sink. Harley lets out a startled gasp and throws her arms tight around his neck. Nightwing chuckles and runs his hands up her thighs, her back, until he's tugging free her pigtails so he can wrap his hands deep in her waist length hair. She hasn't died it since long before leaving the Joker, and it's weight had become a familiar comfort. As Nightwing kisses her again and spreads her legs to move in closer, he's careful of where she'd been injured earlier, and she tries to extend the same courtesy.

 

Nightwing settles himself between her thighs and Harley feels fluttery anticipation low in her stomach. He deepens the kiss and returns his right hand to her side, where he grips at her legs with a desperation that steals her breath. His thumb starts sweeping against her thigh like he's fidgeting. Then he's panting, "Up," and she raises her arms as Nightwing starts pulling her shirt off.

 

This, this is what she needed. Nightwing's dark gaze inches from hers, jaw slack from need as he drinks her in. He curses before going for her throat, where he does such a good job of finding the spot in her neck that sends her head spinning, she doesn't even notice his hands on her bra clasp. When she feels the straps loosen, though, Harley shrugs out of it before he can move. Then he's fondling her breasts with enough skill she's wondering just how cute he is under that mask. But thinking about that, let alone asking, would only ruin the moment and she isn't about to pass up Nightwing fucking her on a bathroom sink just because she's nosy.

 

To ignore her nosiness Harley summons her next best (worst) trait; her impatience. She starts rubbing him through his trousers and mewling in his ear. She rambles anything she can think of to shatter his restraint, to get him inside her. How much she wants him, how good they were together, stupid things she'll regret later but couldn't stop now if she wanted to. It works faster than Harley thought it would, with Nightwing breaking off pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to her throat to moan before taking her chin in one hand and crushing their lips back together. His free hand starts fumbling with his pants and she joins him, which probably only slows the process since their shaky fingers keep tangling. But his forehead is pressed to hers, and they're sharing desperate breathes so she really doesn't actually care how fast it happens, just that it's happening.

 

Once Nightwing's pants are down to his ankles he starts kicking them off without really paying attention, because now his focus is on unbuttoning her jeans and slipping a hand inside her panties. Without removing the denim all she can really do is grind against his palm but they both breathe heavier for it anyways. She lets out breathless little gasps as he slips two fingers inside her and rubs the heal of his hand right where she needs it. Nightwings left hand starts working on pulling down her pants as best as possible and she joins the struggle until they're down to her calves and he eases his fingers out of her to rip them the rest of the way off. He slips his fingers back inside her immediately, pumping and spreading her open until she's swearing she's _fine_ , _really_ , _just_ _hurry_ _up_ -

 

Nightwing uses one hand to grip himself by the base while his other rubs circles around her. Every movement from them both screams their need. God, had both of them been wanting this again, secretly? Harley had touched herself to the memory plenty, though she had tried to tell herself it wasn't about _him_ but the deed itself. She almost asks if he was doing the same.

 

Then he's sinking his hips into hers and she's biting his uninjured shoulder to stop from shaking. "Christ," Nightwing grunts as he pulls back, only to roll his hips forward again and _oh_. At this angle she can feel how his movements drag inside of her and all she can think to do is hook her legs around his hips. The height of the sink has him driving up into her and before she knows it she's coming around him and he's coaxing her through it with his warm breath tickling her ear. Nightwing whispers things so filthy Harley is half through thinking _a_ _good_ _boy_ _shouldn't_ _have_ _a_ _mouth_ _like_ _that_ , before she's shutting it down and thanking whatever god gave it to him.

 

When she's finished riding out her orgasm, Harley twists in his hold, tip-toeing the floor so her hips lean against the sinks edge. The bittersweet bite of the porcelain on her hipbones has her squirming as he lines himself up, making sweeping passes at her entrance. Nightwing's eyes meet Harley's in the mirror as he sinks into her, so she sees the way his eyes flutter and his chin dips as he reaches the hilt. When their eyes meet again she bites her lip in anticipation before nodding eagerly at whatever he was offering. God, when did she get this dumb and trusting again? Nightwing's dark eyes hold onto hers as his brow tightens in concentration, and their panting and cries grow in pitch and frequency until the echos of them are bouncing off the bathroom walls. "Harley, I-"

 

She's shaking around him as she twists at the waist to nip at his jaw and nuzzle his cheek bone. Every stroke has her whimpering, and all it takes is him crooning, "Yeah?" in her ear for her twitching to become full-body shuddering as she comes harder than she thought possible.

 

" _Fuck_ -" Nightwings arms envelope her as his hips jerk an increasingly unsteady rhythm. Harley tries taking a page out of his book. Reaching around to card her fingers through her hair she starts whispering little encouragements, occasionally bordering on compliments, anything to get him to his own orgasm.

 

Harley doesn't know his real name, but works with what she has, whimpering to Nightwing as his breath tickles the back of her neck. Then he's crying out, hips stuttering, and she feels a rush of satisfaction, followed by the warm rush of him inside of her. Harley's body clenches around him automatically and they both push into and against each other with a shared curse.

 

Harley's brain is still resembling a television screen with a bad reception when Nightwing scoops her into his arms and carries her into the shower. She fumbles with the knobs on pure muscle memory so he didn't do it wrong (there was a trick to it) and douse them in ice water.

 

The warm water and steam clears her head and she notices Nightwing is watching her with dark, unreadable eyes. She doesn't understand how he could do that- flip between an open book and a blank slate so easily. Nightwing stays back from the spray, lest the water weaken the spirit gum holding his mask on. Harley's suddenly hit by just how much she wants him to take it off and let her see under it. Deciding to stop looking at him all together, she closes her eyes and tips her face back under the stream. She feels Nightwing brushing the wet locks of hair out of her face.

 

"What are we doing?" He murmurs, seemingly more to himself than anything. "We should know better."

 

She can't bring herself to disagree. But she also can't make herself meet his eyes when she adds, "We both know this can only end badly."

 

He looks immensely frustrated with himself as he continues. "I can't explain... Why I feel like I can talk to you. I wasn't raised to be a very trusting person," he informs her with a private smirk.

 

"Maybe we have too much history for things to be as black and white as we wanted." She remembers something she'd been told once, during her stay at Arkham, about how her first two years with Mr. J were the bloodiest in Gotham's history. "We've seen the worst of Bats and Joker together."

 

Nightwing is quiet for a long moment before he grabs the shampoo and gestures for her to turn. He works her hair into suds in silence. While they work together to rinse, he surprises her with. "We're the only two people in the world who saw how the Red Hood changed them."

 

Harley doesn't have to ask to know he doesn't mean the battle that'd had Joker limping home after digging himself free of a buildings-worth of rubble. She hadn't even known he'd killed a kid until long after it had happened, since she'd been temporarily stripped of sidekick duties as punishment for some annoyance or another. A punishment that included being locked in her room for a month. Harley didn't quite remember how the Joker had rationalized the killing to her when she found out. But the damage was done. Whatever he'd done to Nightwing's Robin-replacement, the Joker had reached a new level of unpredictability. Even Harley hadn't been able to get his jokes or follow his schemes. Then the kid had come back all _wrong_ , and the building had blown up on Joker, but even that hadn't fazed him. In fact, he had been flying as high as a drug addict fresh off a score for _months_ after, so much so Harley's sleep schedule had been decimated between his plots and, when those failed, his 'punishments'. That had been the end of her time with Joker. Harley knew it was hypocritical, being a murderer herself, but the cocky grin the kid had flashed her the last time she'd seen him had been haunting her since the Joker had laughed and told her that that smiling kid was a corpse in the ground. "I never got to tell you how sorry I am. About the kid."

 

Harley can hear the frown in Nightwing's voice. "You weren't there." It sounds more like a question than she'd like.

 

"No, but if I had been maybe I could have-"

 

Nightwing spins her suddenly, grabbing her by the chin to make her hold his gaze. "I'm not saying this to hurt you Harley, but you need to know. _The_ _Joker_ _wouldn't_ _have_ _listened_ _to_ _you_. Understand? Not because you're you, but because no one on this earth could have stopped Joker that night. I've talked to J- Red Hood about that night- the night he died. He said if he hadn't died that night, someone would have. Someone with a lot less importance in the Jokers mind, meaning either he would have gone for the sheer casualty count, or he would have tortured someone worse than he did my brother. And if Red Hood hasn't tried to kill you over it yet, he doesn't blame you, Harley."

 

Unsaid in the air hangs, _and_ _you_ _shouldn't_ _either_ , so she doesn't shoot back how completely non-reassuring that was.

 

Guilt curls in her stomach, but she knows he's right. Knows that the Joker didn't listen to what she wanted for dinner, let alone who she wanted to live or die. Harley chews her lip, debating on voicing the nagging question in the back of her mind. "If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth? Not what you think I want to hear, or whatever Batman would want you to say, but the truth?"

 

Nightwing gives an exaggerated cringe at the name. "Batman would have to know I was here for him to weigh in on what I say to you. And at the moment, I'm not exactly itching to tell to my father figure that I've slept with you. Again. Our last conversation on the matter was horrifying enough."

 

"That's not an answer."

 

He sighs. "I know. I can't promise anything until I know the question, though, Harley."

 

She nods. "Do you - you and your family, that is- think I'm going to go back to the Joker? Or crime, at least?"

 

Nightwing's voice is carefully neutral as he reaches to start massaging conditioner into her ends. "Do you want to go back?"

 

"I hate it when people answer questions with questions," she huffs. "But no, I don't _want_ to. But what I want hasn't really mattered, historically speaking."

 

She twists her hair atop her head so the conditioner can sit while Nightwing grabs her loofah and body wash for her. Instead of handing them over, he starts scrubbing circles near her shoulder.

 

"Last time I was here, you told me you were sick of everyone telling you who you were." His eyes dart to hers with an intensity that makes Harley freeze. "Hold onto that, Harley."

 

She swallows around a lump in her throat and nods. He searches her eyes, then nods in return before returning attention to his task, a comfortable silence falling between them. A calloused thumb grazes her nipple as he scrubs over her ribs and he gives an absentminded apology. Whereas before he had held an unbreakable focus, now Nightwing is distracted as his hands clean her.

 

Harley is content to rinse her hair and let him work until he gets to her hips and his hands, no matter how carefully diligent, have goosebumps climbing her belly. When he reaches her pelvis, his eyebrows are still furrowed with whatever has distracted him as a firm hand goes to her hip to hold her steady. When she grabs his wrist, he blinks his eyes at her in surprise and confusion as his eyes clear. She takes the loofah from his grasp and sets it to the side. That look is replaced with rapt focus as she uses her own hand to guide his between her legs. Nightwing doesn't hesitate to slide two fingers inside her, where she's still wet and sticky with their shared experience. His breathing is shaky as he begins to massage her clean with his fingers, but it evens out around the same time hers turns erratic and his hands become less than cleansing.

 

" _God_ , yes-" And then Nightwing's hands are retreating and he's shutting off the water so his mouth can meet hers.

 

"Bedroom," he hums and she nods in rapid agreement. They're still stumbling their way out of the tub when a vibration shakes the tiles beneath their feet. They blink at each other in confusion before they pick up on the rhythm of the vibration that lets them know it's a cellphone. Nightwing scoops up his belt and starts flipping open pouches until he finds the one he's looking for. He pulls out a small round device that looks nothing like any phone Harley has ever seen, and curses. The fact that it's in annoyance doesn't make it any less hot than when it's breathed in her ear. Disappointment knotting in her gut surprises her, but she hides it by wrapping herself in a towel before handing one to Nightwing.

 

She tries to shake off the feeling by joking, "Duty calling? Or are one of your other paramours demanding your attention?"

 

Nightwing huffs a laugh and starts drying his chest before scrubbing down his legs. Other than that, he's mostly dry except for where her damp hands had mused his hair and the lingering wetness around his mouth from their kisses. "I don't even have time for second round, let alone a second lover." She tries to clamp down on the thrill that goes through her when he licks the moisture from his lips. He had to leave, this was no time to get hot and bothered. "But no, it's not duty calling just-" he makes a face as he falters. "Family stuff. And if I ignore them-"

 

"They'll wonder why."

 

"Exactly." He buckles his utility belt and starts wrestling with the top half of his costume. Suddenly his eyes jump back to hers. "Shit, I wasn't thinking, we didn't use-"

 

She tries to smile to ease the panic she sees flooding his eyes now that all of his gears are turning. She's been on birth control since her one-year sabbatical. Her heart squeezes when she realizes that that was almost four years ago. She'd have to make a card to send to her sister's place. "I'm on the pill. I'll go get a Plan B in the morning, too. If you wanted to be a real hero you'd loan me thirty bucks. No, I'm kidding," she laughs when he starts reaching for a pouch on his belt. "The clinic and I'll sort something out."

 

He nods, but he looks like he's giving himself a mental beating. "Sorry. I know this is a conversation we should have had before. I got tested after my last partner, too, if that helps."

 

"I did too." She doesn't tell him she does it obsessively every six months. Sometimes more. It was something her last councilor had had a field day with; her compulsive fear of the Joker having left his mark on her in the form of some incurable disease or unknown experiment. Her new therapist was much less creepily fascinated by this. And while Harley couldn't test for the latter, the former was well within her means. "I'm as clean as a Gothamite can be."

 

Nightwing's communicator lets out a two-toned chirp and he swears more colorfully. He starts pacing toward the window. "I'm sorry, I've got to-"

 

"Go," she waves in the general direction of the door. "The last thing I need is Batman and his brood storming my secret hideout and making it not-so-secret." He shoots her a grin of gratitude for her understanding. Instead of heading for the door, though, he yanks the bathroom window open before ducking through, giving her a two-fingered salute, and dropping from view.

 

In spite of herself, Harley finds her heart pounding as she lunges for the open window. Before she can even reach it, the familiar whistle of a grappling hook hisses through the air. 

 

She leans out just in time to see Nightwing disappear into the smog and darkness of Gotham.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, I made myself pretty sad thinking about Harley making Lucy a card for her birthday every year. I'm still trying to decide if I want to include her any more than this mention, so if you feel strongly either way, let me know.


	3. Superposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley tries to make contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly a chapter about Halrley's mentality and getting her feet under her. 
> 
> Title is from 'Superposition' by Young the Giants

 

 

It isn't until she's dried and dressed herself for bed that Harley realizes she and Nightwing haven't given each other any way to contact one another. But it's late, and doesn't seem too important with sleep weighing on her.

 

For a while, it's not even a problem.

The entire following day she's too busy running to the clinic, where she agrees to patrol the property next weekend in exchange for a discount. After that she takes a trip to the craft store. While she's deciding between glitters, her stomach rumbles and she decides she should probably spend some of her paycheck restocking her fridge instead of just her craft box. So Harley does that, too, before grabbing something from a fast food place because she's too hungry to wait for herself to cook.

 

The rest of the week she's busy between her work, her therapist, and perfecting the card to send to Sherry's house. It isn't until after her patrol of the clinic that weekend, as she leaves the post office all jittery, that she realizes she has no way to call on her favorite stress-reliever as of late.

 

Harley can't exactly look him up, as she doubts "Nightwing" is in any directory. Her next best option is one she refuses to consider, seeing as she'd rather die than look Batman in the eye and ask him his protégé's number for a booty call. That, and she's pretty sure she'd get arrested for using the Batsignal even for an actual emergency, let alone something selfish. She doesn't exactly have the best track record with police. That leaves her two options, both of which involve a train ride to Blüdhaven. The first was to cause a scene by stirring up general mischief in her Quinn suit (which she had a feeling Nightwing wouldn't appreciate), or get his attention by being the "victim" of general mischief like she had last time. Harley is debating her options when she realizes Nightwing has played one of her games before. And if she left a trail, it was almost certain he'd find it.

 

A new plan in the works, Harley decides to dress in Quinn colors if not her full suit. Black and red feels too serious, too dark for a playful game, so she mentally flips through her color pallets before deciding on one she'd only been experimenting with when she had left Mr. J. Pink and blue had felt too bright and happy at the time, but now she only feels fluttery excitement when she pulls on a street-friendly outfit of split cotton-candy colors. It wasn't a Harley Costume by any means, but it was somewhere between that and something she might wear out on a weekend if she ever decides to rejoin regular civilian nightlife.

 

She grabs a few bottles of paint and brushes, letting out a whoop of victory when she finds a can of bubblegum pink spray paint she had bought and never used during a phase in her crafts. She piles it all into a backpack and runs into the bathroom to finish off her look. Painting her face is out of the question. No one would believe what she was doing was just a little harmless vandalism if she was masking herself. So instead she does her makeup like normal and pulls her hair up into a single ponytail before making a face at her reflection and leaving her hair down altogether.

 

The train ride from Gotham to Blüdhaven was eternal, and Harley almost wishes she had a car, or at least a motorcycle like Nightwing. If she did, the travel time would be cut almost in half. The ride gives her time to decide her plan of action, though, so she doesn't curse it too much. She even gets a few ideas for where her final message could be written without too many unintended passers by seeing before Nightwing does.

 

Harley's first stop when she gets off the train is the center of the city, the area with the most traffic and business. She remembers hearing that places like that were where all of Blüdhaven's crime happened. Most of their criminal activity was of the blue or white collar variety, not the masked supervillain variety.

 

She realizes pretty quickly that making her mark ground-level is pretty much useless when she doesn't know where he's likely to pass by in his civies. But, Blüdhaven wasn't built to be scaled and used as a playground the way Gotham seemed to be.

 

So Harley finds the first dark alley with a fire escape near the business districts and throws herself up like she's about to do a routine on bars to grab the ladder and drag it down to a climbing height. From there it's a ridiculous amount of stairs to even get near the buildings roof. She lays on her stomach and paints his symbol from upside-down on the buildings side. After a moments deliberation, she adds a white 'H' in it's center. On the roof she paints an arrow pointing west and a smiley face, then takes off running in the same direction, only stumbling the first couple roofs from part nerves and part miscalculation. The spaces between buildings were bigger here, and the architecture wasn't as parkour-friendly, but they were still doable for a practiced hand. She decides to mark sparsely, so someone who wasn't looking couldn't follow too easily. She makes it five rooftops away before she repeats her pattern, only curving her arrow slightly toward the south, and keeps doing this every couple handful of buildings until she's within a couple block of her destination, then she stops with painting his symbol on the side and starts making the arrows in more obscure locations. The final building doesn't get an arrow, but the code ' _E3B_ - _193_ '.

 

One nearly- fatal leap onto an abandoned car park later, she's rounding stairs down to the third floor on the east side of the structure. When she reaches section 'B' she hunts down spot 'B-193'. Harley sprays ' _Call_ _Me_?' in the bright pink, then dribbles the pink paint to a spot across the way, and, behind the cement tire block, writes her number in dark paint. Now this isn't the smartest thing she could do, but it's the only practical thing she can think of short of involving the bat and that was absolutely not happening. So, she's stuck.

 

Harley descends the parking garage and heads towards the train, hoping irrationally that she'll catch glimpse of a blue-tinged shadow overhead. She has no such luck, though, and makes it all the way to the station without seeing anything on the grounds or rooftops, save hearing the wail of sirens a few blocks over. Nightwing is probably busy, then. And even if he wasn't, it is a big city and she isn't as noticeable as she used to be. 

 

The ride back to Gotham is quiet, no matter how much she wishes it would be interrupted by her phone going off. But it doesn't. Not on the train ride home, the entirety of that night, and not the next four days she's at work pretending not to care. By the time Thursday has rolled around she's deemed her 'game' too convoluted and is resigned to waiting to see if Nightwing reaches out to her. When her phone goes off, she assumes it's Pam, who's been talking to her again lately, or work. Instead, it says, ' _Got_ _your_ _message_.', a date, a time, and a set of coordinates, in four neat lines.

 

It's from an unknown number, but the uptick in her pulse tells her it's him. Nightwing. It's like an itch she just can't scratch. Every night she has a handful of halfhearted orgasms alone that only satiates her until the next night. She had figured the fact that he hasn't done anything to contact her, even if he hadn't seen her message, meant there wasn't a mutual interest. Or at least to the same degree.

 

Well, story of her life.


	4. Provider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightwing and Harley see each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically half a chapter because what i'm working on got stupid long so you all get an update early! 
> 
> Chapter title "Provider" by Frank Ocean

Harley tries not to get too excited that Friday night (the specified date) when it begins to crawl closer to 11:30 (the specified time). It's July, and thus Gotham is a sticky nightmare, so Harley is torn on how to dress. Nightwing has seen her in all sorts of states, but this is their first planned rendezvous, so she wants to look good. But, if he was just going to politely ask her to stop vandalizing his city in a pseudo-stalking attempt, she doesn't want to look too eager, and thus, a fool. And either result needed to factor the blistering city summer night.

 

A search of her bedroom closet produces a pair of shorts in her lighter colors, and a matching t-shirt that showed her midriff. Harley doesn't like showing some of the tattoos the look displays, but many of the worst onesshe's had removed or covered if they hadn't faded enough over time. She has a thigh piece of her diamonds, that she loves, but there's a crooked 'J' on her inner arm she really dislikes. Harley likes the diamond band on her forearm and the hearts on her cheek and collar well enough, and has some pieces on her right hip and hands that she still finds joy in. The only ones she hates, but could never get removed, are the tally marks on her back left shoulder. They're reminders. A constant display of the mistakes she's made, the people she's killed. Nightwing has seen all of these before but she still feels weird - vulnerable - to display more than half of these just to meet with him.

 

She still wears worn, reliable boots. Harley does her makeup as she had for her Blüdhaven mission. A pink and blue eye under her normal street eye makeup and she's out the door, pigtails forgotten.

 

Harley reaches the rooftop a block and a half over with extreme ease in comparison to Blüdhaven. Nightwing is standing there in full costume with the addition of a small, dark backpack, and she doesn't know if that's a good sign or not. He turns toward her and smiles, and she relaxes minutely.

 

"Got your message."

 

"So you said," she replies with a tentative smile and he shrugs with good nature. "Why the location?"

 

He gives a little laugh, which she likes. "I didn't want to be presumptuous."

 

She snorts, and decides to play off his good mood. "Baby, you can presume all you want."

 

He smirks, but she can see the slight grimace to it. "I don't exactly do my relationships that way," she tries not to react too strongly to the word 'relationship'. "Which is actually why I wanted to talk."

 

"It seems I was the one who was too presumptuous," Harley chuckles, but it's more out of embarrassment than anything. "If this is you sayin' I'm bothering you-"

 

"I don't mean to interrupt you," Nightwing interrupts regardless. "I feel, however, you're about to dig yourself into a hole over the very thing I'm trying to avoid us spiraling about."

 

A twinge of annoyance at his wording. "Hey-"

 

"I'm trying to say, I want to sort out what's okay. If you want me around, I don't want to be assuming what you're comfortable with. Especially given our histories."

 

Harley's relationships hang heavy in the air but by 'our' she's not sure if he means their shared history or his own separate history. "You don't?"

 

Nightwing takes a step closer. "No. I'm not like-" Harley sees a muscle flutter in his jaw. "I'm not the kind of person who gets joy out of things you don't like."

 

Harley knows this. Knows that in their time together he'd only ever seemed to get off from the _opposite_. The more she moaned the hungrier he seemed to become for her orgasm. "I- I like that about you. I know you wouldn't..."

 

"Knowing something rationally doesn't always have the impact we wish it did." He huffs a laugh. "I'd say some... guidelines would help. Or rules, if you're more of a hard lines person."

 

"I have a rule," she squeaks before she really thinks. "I mean, I need you to tell me if I'm not being rational, you know? Or if I push you too far." In or out of the bedroom.

 

Nightwing nods as he considers this. "The latter applies to me, too. I don't want to push any sore spots. This is only as serious as we make it." He pauses. "I have one too. It's not really _my_ rule - well it is - but it's a general rule. For my family. You can't try to find out who I am. Or who they are. And I can't tell you, Harley. It's not my secret to tell."

 

Harley thinks of the stress that triggered her little mission in the first place. Her little secret. While she's obviously disappointed to not see beneath the mask, she's too busy enjoying the connection. "Okay, I can live with that. Could I at least have an easier way to contact you than defacing a parking garage?"

 

He smiles, dimples and all. "The number I contacted you from before is safe. I got a burner. It's part of what took me so long to contact you, actually. That and I wasn't sure why I was seeing a defaced version of my own sigil everywhere until I went on patrol."

 

"I wouldn't say 'everywhere'. But I'm happy to not have to paint Blüdhaven anymore. Although, you can't say it doesn't need it."

 

"No more than Gotham." They both laugh and it makes Harley smile even bigger. Then a warm wind blows and shifts the hair sticking to her neck and shoulders and she sees sweat beading on Nightwing's forehead. "Y'know, I have an air conditioner at my place. And a frankly ridiculous amount of fans."

 

"We could finish our talk there," he licks his lips and Harley's stomach clenches. His voice is deep and the look in his eyes screams lust. Harley takes a few backward steps, not breaking eye contact.

 

"Well then, let's go." Then she's running and soaring to the next rooftop, Nightwing hot on her heals. His pursuit being play rather than business has no affect on the thrill pounding through her veins. It becomes an unofficial race to her home, and she wins only because his focus is more on her than the building. As soon as their feet hit the gravel of her buildings roof, his hands are on her hips, spinning her to face him.

 

For a minute they're just looking at each other, and then he's pressing a hand to the small of her back until their hips and thighs are bumping. "Do you have any rules about me fucking you against that wall?"

 

Harley tracks to where his eyes flit to the door to the stairway, or, more specifically, the wall along side it. She shakes her head 'no' to his question, And he starts backing her up until she feels cool brick against her back.

 

Nightwings hands take her jaw as his mouth finds hers. She throws an arm around his neck and deepens the kiss, one of his hands falling back to her waist, fingers skimming the bare skin near her hip. He breaks the kiss suddenly. "Fuck," he breaths, a thumb stroking her cheek. " _Sangat_ _cantik_."

 

"What language is that?"

 

He smirks. "The language doesn't matter. It's the meaning."

 

Harley nips at his jaw, then his earlobe, and he grunts in response. "And what does it mean, smart guy?"

 

His lips brush her ear as he whispers, "So beautiful," and crashes their lips back together as Harley's pulse electrifies her body. Nightwing's hand at her waist starts brushing and gripping her bare thighs, bringing the electricity to her core.

 

" _Très_ _jolie_ , _tan_ _hermosa_." he rambles as he licks at the sweat on her neck and sucks on her pulse.

 

"How many languages you know?"

 

Nightwing chucks against her windpipe and she feels it tickle down her chest. His hand starts on her shorts' button as he responds, unhelpfully. "Three, that you know of."

 

"That's not a real ans..." Harley loses her train of thought when his hand slips into her underwear and starts teasing her with too-light touches around her core. She pants as he finally traces against her clit and sends a shiver through her. "Nnnhh."

 

She doesn't have it in her to say his full name and gives up in favor of tracing along his bottom lip with her thumb and pulling his hair. Nightwing hums gentle encouragements to be patient that feel more and more like teasing when he tilts his head to rest his forehead against hers.

 

He slowly begins applying more pressure until she's grinding her hips in tandem, dropping both arms to his shoulders. He mumbles something that sounds like, "C'mere," and wraps his free arm fully around her waist as he sinks his fingers into her. They both groan as she takes the entirety of his long fingers. Harley starts shoving her shorts down her legs until they drop down to her ankles as he rubs his palm against her.

 

Harley reaches out half blind to palm him through his pants and he ruts against her. "Miss me?" She huffs in jest toward his quickly hardening dick. Still, Nightwing nods, their noses bumping from proximity.

 

"I think you missed me, too." He scissors his fingers inside her and she yelps in pleasure. He pumps his fingers a few more times before doing it again. "I want to hear how much."

 

Nightwing pushes her panties to join her shorts, and drops to his knees. He lifts one leg at a time out of her clothes and sets them to the side, before draping a thigh over his shoulder. He gets close enough to have her squirming in anticipation before bumping her hip with his nose and raising an eyebrow at her.

 

"Don't keep a girl waiting, Nightwing. Already waited a week for you to get my message."

 

"And a phone," he quips, nipping at her stomach. He kisses closer to where she wants him and she groans out of frustration. With that same downright obscene smirk she had memorized before, he takes pity on her. Nightwing licks into Harley, making her head roll back to the brick wall. He splays the hand of the arm supporting her leg at her hip, the other sliding up, under her shirt to start playing with the edge of her bra. She shoves at both until her breasts are in his grasp, and he starts fondling her with his free hand.

 

Harley gives her neglected breast attention as her other hand finds his hair. It was getting long by his standards, and the dark curls keep tangling around her fingers but he doesn't seem to care. Nightwing's tongue swipes against her at a mind-numbing pace, until he's brushing her entrance before delving deeper. Harley doesn't mean to start riding his face but when she does, his eyes only flutter as he grunts and moves the hand at her hip to rub slow circles around her clit.

 

"Enough, just-" She's pulling him away from her and his face is slick in the moonlight. She whines, "I want you inside me."

 

"I take it you don't want another two week break, then?" Harley shakes her head vigorously as she starts tearing at his belt. His gaze is steady on her face. "Tell me you want me around, Harley."

 

"Of course I do, how could anyone not-"

 

"I don't care about anyone right now. You. I want-" His face is a picture of frustrated as he stares hard at her collar bone.

 

Harley is suddenly left wondering, _who_ _sent_ _you_ _away_? _Who_ _didn't_ _want_ _you_? But it doesn't feel like her place, so she just takes his face in her hands. She swallows around a nervous twinge. "I painted a town for you, Wing Ding. I want you around. So much, I think I should leave you alone."

 

Nightwing gives a tentative smile and strips off his belt the rest of the way. His pants and underwear follow, as he huffs, "The fact that you even think that shows how wrong I was."

 

"You have to stop apologizin' for that at some point." She chuckles as he presses against her, face buried in her hair and his hard member bumping her hip. Little tingles flash through her center.

 

"Not on my life, Miss Quinn. Someone has to remind you." He slides his bag off his shoulders and pulls back to slip the top of his costume off. When he drops back to the ground Harley shivers as the air hits her sweat- slick skin.

 

"Where you goin'?" She whines and he looks up at her with a smile. From the side pouch of his bag, he produces a condom. Harley sees the flash of several more in the compartment and anticipation winds in her gut.

 

"I don't like being unprepared. It's a part of the pattern of obsessive behavior that was instilled in me at a young age," Nightwing chuckles and she smiles with him. He rips the packet and stands as he rolls the condom on. In the time he'd been away from her, she's stripped her shirt and bra, and is playing with the wetness at her center as she watches him. He groans watching her, and cages her with two hands on the brick wall. His voice is as deep as his eyes when he asks, "Are you touching yourself watching me? Thinking about me?"

 

Harley nods and pushes her fingers deeper. She feels herself tremble and clench around nothing, feels the emptiness of it.

 

"Is that what you've been doing these last few weeks?" His nose brushes Harley's cheek and his hand covers hers at her clit, adding pressure, mirroring the movements of her hand. "Touching yourself while you think about us? About this?"

 

She whimpers and he pushes his fingers inside her once more. "It's okay, I have too. _Jesus_."

 

Harley is rarely to the point of begging before being lost in the throws of sex, or chasing an orgasm, but Nightwing almost has her there. Just from talking, teasing. She hisses, "Come _on_."

 

Nightwing grips his shaft and and gives himself a few jerks, and nips her jaw. When he lines himself up, she grips his shoulders and wraps a leg around his hip. He grunts as he eases inside her and Harley struggles to breathe around this new fullness. His hands now free, he grabs both of her thighs and hoists her legs into his strong arms. She can only appreciate his flexed muscles for a blink of an eye before he's sinking deeper.

 

Bottomed out, they both pant each other's breaths. When she's ready, she clenches around him and shifts her hips, savoring the coolness and slight scratch of the brick against her back. He moans and moves his hands to better support her weight as he draws his hips back. The slight change in positions has him rutting rapidly against her, and Harley cusses and moans against his parted mouth.

 

The wind ruffles their hair and Harley feels free and bold as she stares into Nightwings dark eyes. She drops a hand to play with herself again and uses the other to grip the back of his neck, loving the way he grunts when she bites her nails in just a little.

 

She's almost so lost in feeling of their bodies moving she doesn't even realize the orgasm curling her toes and wracking her center. Harley reaches blindly to bring his lips to hers, smothering her moans with his kisses. Nightwing brushes more kisses against her cheeks and chin before giving a shuddering sigh and pressing impossibly closer. She feels the closest she ever has to being completely sheltered; safe.

 

Harley takes his jaw in her hands and makes him meet her eyes as his nose scrunches just before his face breaks and he's coming inside her. He hisses a curse as his hips jerk a few more times, but doesn't drop his gaze from hers.

"Shit," She pants as her legs slide from Nightwings arms and back down to the ground. He's still supporting most of her weight, but it gets the blood flowing normally enough that her head clears. Still, she repeats herself, "Shit."

 

Nightwing chuckles, out of breath, and nods in agreement. "Shit." He nudges his boot against hers. "Want to go inside?"

 

Harley nods vigorously, starting to feel the heat again without anything to focus on, and they pull on their clothes. When they're done he holds the door open for her and they head down the stairway until they reach her floor, and then her apartment. She can feel the heat of his gaze between her shoulder blades as she unlocks the door, and it startles her when she feels his hands brush her waist.

 

"Sorry," Nightwing murmurs and starts to retreat.

 

She spins on him as she backs into her apartment, pulling him forward by his backpack straps. " Don't apologize for that. I like that you can't keep your hands off me."

 

"It's new for me. My last girlfriend and I couldn't do this much," He strokes a hand through her hair, then down her arm. "We worked together too much. At home we were more comfortable, but...."

 

Harley swallows hard when he tangles their fingers. "But you _knew_ her. You touch me so much because you want me. That's just physical." She pushes his backpack off his shoulders, and he catches it just before it hits the ground, then sets it gently to the side. Harley curls her hands into his hair and cuts him off before he can speak. "Hey, that's okay."

 

He kisses her so hard she loses her breath, her train of thought. "That's not it, Harleen. There's too much entanglement for it to always be what it was the last few times." He pauses. "Unless that's all you want."

 

Harley wars with herself and can feel the confusing pulling at her face. ' _Yes_ ' and ' _no_ ' are both on the tip of her tongue as she thinks about her confession on the roof. She doesn't want him around only because it's been too long since something like this. Pam was the last real relationship she'd had, and she had just kind of fallen into that one after she'd ran to her while leaving the Joker. Her and Pam were friends, so it was all too easy to factor sex into the equation when they were cohabiting the same space.

 

Pam and Harley had tried their best for a long time, but some friends weren't meant to live together. Or date. Harley had been too off the rails still and Pam was barely Pammy so much as Poison Ivy. Sometimes, at least. Other times she could be Pammy. But it was getting fewer and farther between for what Harley had needed.

 

Eventually, Harley offers him the truth. "I don't know." He sighs and she rushes on. "I don't want to tell you something and for it to switch suddenly one day. Batman said it himself, I'm a loose cannon."

 

"Bullshit," Nightwing tells her with gentle force. "Harley, I've known you for years, and _this_ ," he takes her by the shoulders. "This is the most in control I've ever seen you. Not just because you're not with the Joker, or you're on meds, either. You're not just in control of yourself, but of your life, and how you interact with other people. Maybe the first time it was stupid impulse, but this wouldn't have happened again- and I would not be here now- if there wasn't something there. You don't have to be-."

 

 _Afraid_.

 

"Nightwing..."There's no words. Harley isn't sure whether to argue or kiss him, but she has to make him understand. "You don't know what it's like to lose control when you've been fighting for it for so long. It feels like falling back down a cliff."

 

"I'm not asking you to lose. I don't want to _take_ anything from you, Harley."

 

There he goes again, throwing those words that are so heavy around like they weigh nothing. "I've never- I-I don't know how-"

 

Nightwings eyes widen, and he seems to get it. He makes a placating gesture as he reaches for his bag. "Okay, okay. Let's just... breathe. We can take this one day at a time, Harley. For as long as you want those days."

 

"I told you on the roof," she says before she can help it. "I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The language Dick calls Harley beautiful in is Indonesian since many Rromani languages have Indonesian origins. Since his parents were both romani circus performers it's likely he would have learned the language from his parents & other circus performers as a child. 
> 
> After that he repeats himself in French and Spanish because I headcanon educated little Waynes.


	5. Vibrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just some shower smut and fluff for your reading pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a while guys, but it's another split chapter so another part should be up real soon! i'm on spring break so i've actually had time to write lately
> 
> chapter title: vibrant by basstracks

"I told you on the roof," Harley days before she can help it. "I do."

 

From her response, Nightwing smiles at her, but he's still backing towards the bathroom. She's amazed he hasn't investigated the door to the left of it that leads to her kitchen. Well, to her knowledge he hasn't. "Where you goin'?"

 

"We just had sex on a roof in the middle of a heat wave. Feel like a shower?"

 

"Oh," Harley blinks as the part of her that wanted to kiss him flickers into lust. She pulls her shirt over her and starts prowling after him. "Yeah. That could be nice."

 

She catches up to him at the bathrooms threshold and tangles them together as he backs her against the door until in clicks shut behind them. He kisses her with slow sweeps of his tongue that have her her breathing heavy as he fumbles with the clasp of her bra before dragging it down her arms.

 

Nightwing drags languid, open-mouthed kisses down her neck and cleavage, then takes her breasts in both hands, sucking and kissing her nipples. Harley is all but melting against his mouth when his hand slides into her panties and she's somehow taught and loose all at once. He has her struggling to stand in what feels like seconds, but as soon as she sets a hand on the sink for balance, she regrets it, because he draws back with a teasing look and begins fiddling with the shower.

 

"There's a trick to it. Here." He's almost gotten it when she gets there, but she had seen the flinch he gave when his testing fingers were met with ice water. He backs off while she fixes it, much to her annoyance, and when she turns he's rummaging in his bag.

 

"You getting in?" She purrs.

 

He sets a few things on the sink before glancing at her over his shoulder. "Yeah, uh, I'll be right behind you. Go ahead."

 

He's trying to be casual but Harley's seen adhesive remover enough to know the bottle on the sinks ledge at first glance. Nightwing is going to take his mask off. Nightwing is going to take his mask off, and he's too polite to tell her to stop gawking, and, _no_ _you_ _can't_ _help_ , so Harley gets a clue and strips off her shorts and panties.

 

As she's climbing in the shower, she sees Nightwing topless and bracing himself over the sink. His gaze is focused on the adhesive remover, thoughtful, and Harley feels like she's intruding, so she ducks behind the shower curtain, then under the spray.

 

She rushes to shave, despite everything that had already happened tonight, and is in the middle of washing out her shampoo when she hears the sink running and something rustling. By the time she's massaging in conditioner, the curtain is pulling back, and Nightwing is stepping in, mask-less.

 

It's just a few inches of cheekbone and temple and nose, all a little flushed from him scrubbing the spiritgum away. But this feels like a whole new person. He's stomach-clenchingly pretty with those big brown eyes framed by high cheekbones, tan skin, and long, long eyelashes that Harley couldn't see when he'd had the mask on. She'd almost be jealous of those eyelashes if he wasn't also gloriously naked.

 

"Let me guess, I look better with it on?" Nightwing chuckles as he brushes a knuckle down her stomach, making her muscles flutter.

 

Harley shakes her head rapidly and lunges in to attack him with wet kisses. He wraps his arms around her without hesitation, gripping her waist and her thighs, anything he can gets his hands on. Suddenly, they're both desperate, fumbling with his hard length and slipping it between her legs to where she's still slick from earlier.

 

Him pressing against her entrance has her shuddering, and he pulls them together like he wishes he could make them one being, breathing and moving together. They aren't far off, with him pumping steady insider of her, their arms so entangled where one ends and the other begins is a mystery. Nightwing hoists her up and crowds her against the wall. Ridiculously fast, Harley's already bucking and whining through an orgasm, and he doesn't hold back as she pulses around his length.

 

Harley twists in his arms so he can set her down and press his broad chest against her back. They're both drenched from the shower, but it's pure arousal that allows him to slip back inside her with such ease despite the new angle. She hisses a drawn out, " _Fuck_."

 

A moan rumbles Nightwing's chest as his hips jerk unsteadily to meet hers until he's fully inside again. His heavy gaze meeting hers from bellow his furrowed brow is even hotter without a mask in the way, and she clenches involuntarily around him. " _Shit_. Shit, Harley."

 

"Careful," Harley rolls her hips and his hands fly to her waist. "Don't want me getting a big ego, now."

 

Nightwing mumbles something she can't hear besides, "justified", and draws himself back slowly before slamming back to the hilt. Harley's gasp is sharp and loud, and followed by a pleased giggle. Nightwing kisses up her spine as he chuckles, "Careful, now. Don't want me thinking you're just as fucked as I am."

 

"I think the whole _point_ ," Harley plants her hands on the shower wall for leverage before taking over the rhythm of their hips. "Is that we're both fucked."

 

Nightwing uses his legs to spread hers wider before reaching one hand between her thighs to play with her with a skill that has her seeing stars. Taking back the rhythm, he begins bucking into her rapidly. She's practically putty in his hands when he growls in her ear, "You know that's not what I mean."

 

And like that, she's shattering around him for the second time, grabbing unsuccessfully for purchase on the slick shower walls. This time, he only keeps moving inside of her until she's halfway done riding it out, and then his hips are jerking unsteadily and he's pulling out of her to spend into the tub.

 

Harley drops to her knees, much to Nightwing's apparent surprise, and kisses the head of his cock, stroking his length as she does. He gives a low moan and buries a hand in her hair as she takes him in her mouth as far as she can, stroking his balls with teasing touches. She can feel him twitch on her tongue as the last of his orgasm rides out. He apologizes as his hips stutter forward, but Harley hollows her cheeks and sucks gently and his apologies turn to curses.

 

When it becomes too much, Nightwing's hand in her hair finds her chin, and he pulls her to her feet like that. His kiss is sweet and slow in spite of the taste of him on her tongue. Too soon they're running out of hot water, so they finish showering in a rush before spilling out of the tub.

 

They're still drying themselves when they leave the bathroom and Harley throws herself onto the bed with a sigh. She feels the bed shift as Nightwing sits and then lays next to her. Harley bites her lip, looking at his bare face out of the corner of her eye. "You hungry?"

 

Nightwing turns his head to look at her. "God, yes."


	6. My Strange Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some fluff, some smut, some development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 apologies for being this fucking late but finals and Game of Thrones murdered my inspiration for a good while, hopefully summer will be more consistent! Enjoy, ive been loving all the feedback, you guys all warm my heart and soul 
> 
> Chapter title: My Strange Addiction  
> by Billie Eilish

And then they're pulling on clothes, him from his backpack, her from her dresser, and pushing through the door to the kitchen. "Don't get too excited, I can't cook great or nothing."

"I can," Nightwing says, offhandedly as he takes in her tiny kitchen, beat up cabinets and second hand table all carefully cataloged. He turns to her with a little smile, seeming to realize himself now that the kitchen had passed inspection. "I mean, I know how to cook. I can help."

Harley isn't sure what to do with that information, but tries to fit it in with her mental image of Nightwing's civilian life. Regardless, she gestures for him to go ahead. "I don't have much."

Nightwing smiles and starts opening cupboards. It's weird, seeing him in her kitchen, wearing a normal shirt and sweatpants, feet and face bare. He looks... young. Like the sweet boy-next-door Harley has never known but had seen in movies. The only neighbors she'd had growing up were gap-toothed trailer park kids who thought she was annoying for knowing big words. Nightwing laughs as he takes in a cupboard full of half eaten bags of chips. "You weren't kidding about not having much."

"Hey," she mocks offended but can't help but smile back. She knows her eating habits are laughable. "Don't be a dick."

This just makes Nightwing laugh harder and it's contagious. Harley giggles until she snorts and immediately slaps both a hand over her mouth, causing Nightwing to advance on her with surprised delight on his face.

"Don't even think about it, Nightwing!" Harley aims for serious but she's smiling as he continues to creep closer until they're grappling for the upper hand, for the first time not to land blows, but to tickle one another. Nightwing has her both snorting and retreating until shes backed against the wall and he gives up the fight in favor of resting his hands on her hips under her shirt, which she minds less.

"You're teaching me a lot about my rebound rate," he rasps when her wandering hands have him hardening by her hip.

"You act like I'm the only girl you're seeing. Or like you haven't slept with tons of people," She chuckles, but her focus is rapt as she runs her hands up his chest to his jaw.

She feels a muscle flicker there, and then her fingers are seeking the soft skin of his face that his mask usually obscures. "Sure, I've been with my share, but I told you last time, I don't exactly have a big personal life. A lot of people take a night and call it that. As for right now... I'm not seeing anyone else. Just you."

This is... new. The last guy she'd been monogamous with, even just by default, had been in college, right before she'd met Mr. J. It had ended... badly, soon after she'd become an Arkham intern. He had become the heart on her cheek. A heart for each of the ones she couldn't save, the the ones that didn't deserve it. Not necessarily people she had killed, but people she felt responsible for. One for Guy, and one for the smiling boy who'd come back wrong. The heart bellow her collarbone. No amount of Nightwing insisting Red Hood didn't blame her would stop her for blaming herself.

"I'm not seeing anyone else either," Harley responds eventually. "I told you I'm picky."

"You have every reason to be, from where I'm standing." Nightwing wasn't hard against her anymore, but he was still holding her, still showing her beneath the mask.

"I like where you're standing."

He smirks and she feels his dimple under her palm. "You still hungry?"

As if on queue, Harley's stomach rumbles. "Starving."

From there Nightwing starts pulling ingredients (half of which she hadn't realized she owns) out of cupboards while asking her to get pots ready on the stove. Before she knows it, food is actually being cooked. He has sausages sizzling in a pan, and water boiling on the burner next to it.

Harley is trying to observe over his shoulder without interfering when he glances over at her. She shrinks back on impulse, expecting to be scolded for being in the way, but Nightwing just hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her in front of him. She stares at the boiling water blankly for all of a second before he's handing her a box of pasta and a spoon. It feels like the practiced hands of someone used to cooking in tandem. With one of his exes, Harley assumes. Next to her, he's busying himself poking at the sausages, adding the sauce. It's all very... domestic. Harley isn't sure what to do with it.

Suddenly, Nightwing is smirking and scolding her. "That'll never get cooked in your hand, Harley."

"How do you know?" She quips without thinking. "Maybe I got some of them super powers and never told you."

"And your 'power' is the ability to boil boxed noodles?" Nightwing snorts. "Lame."

"You just say that because you've hung out with Superman." Harley pours a healthy amount of the box into the pot as she speaks. "Some of us common folk have to work with what we've got."

Nightwing gives a chuckle as he starts adding spices to the sauce. As someone who'd always just reheated a jar from the store, Harley can't help but be mesmerized by the easy, practiced way in which he cooks. She tries to remember to keep an eye on the noodles, but she's mostly just watching Nightwings brow furrow as his dark eyes scan her scant spice collection. She especially tries to not smile at the little "ah" he makes when he finds what he's looking for, but it's in vain.

Before she knows it, a meal is ready before her and Nightwing helps her ready the plates. Then they're sitting there, at Harley's tiny kitchen table that hadn't had someone besides Harley herself seated at it in longer than she could remember. It's awkward for all of a second until Harley starts shoving food in her mouth and emits a sound of pleasure at the taste that has Nightwing laughing as he digs in.

"I take it I haven't forgotten how to cook, then?"

When she's swallowed enough to speak, Harley asks, "You're telling me you don't cook like this every day?"

Nightwing's dimple sans mask is glorious. "No, not really. I don't usually have the time. Or self care skills. I only even know how because Al-" He cuts himself off with a choked sound and Harley tries not to let it bother her. He continues after a second but its not the same. "My grandfather taught me."

Harley hums to show she really is interested in what he's saying, but shovels food in her mouth to hide the turn of her mouth. "Didn't realize there was grand batdad."

"The family is bigger than most people think," he tries for lighthearted, but it comes across more awkward than he would have probably liked.

"I've been alone since I left high school," Harley admits. "I never had a big family."

Nightwing's eyes are curious as she pokes at her plate. He seems to weigh his words before speaking again. "What about your parents?"

Harley cuts him a look, but softens it with a smirk. "Don't act like you haven't read my file, Wing Ding." Nightwing holds up both hands in mock surrender. She sighs, and tells him what she can only assume he already knows. About her dad who'd disappeared after winning a few thousand in the lottery. About her mom and sister -who she doesn't bother naming- how she hadn't seen her mother in almost a decade. The only lie she tells is when she says the same about Sherry. "But you know all that already."

"Not really," Nightwing hums as they're washing dishes. Well, he's washing, she's just kind of sloshing the water around . "When I was with Batman, I was a lot less... detail oriented. Especially near the end. Kind of a dumbass, Batman would say. Suffice to say I tended to skim my reading back then."

"Besides," He dries his hands and turns to her and he's suddenly so close she can feel his warmth. "Reading isn't the same as hearing it from you. Or hearing how you experienced it."

Harley's drawn to him by the funny feeling his words ignite in her stomach. His left hand finds her hip automatically and she presses further into him, an odd embrace that leaves them watching one another's face. Quietly, she asks, "Why did you stop working with Batman?"

It was something that had been nagging at her for years. The Joker was horrible to Harley, and it still took everything she had for her to leave. But, even more confusing, is that Nightwing still calls Batman 'family'.

Nightwings lips form a thin line for a long moment before he sighs. The hand not on her hip brushes the hair from her neck. "There were a few reasons but mostly... I mean," Nightwing huffs. Harley had never seen him struggle for words like this. Eventually he goes with, "While Batman operates in the shadows, I operated in _his_ shadow. So I was a kid who started to resent working for his father. And then I got reckless, started to bend the rules. Went further than I should have, for a while, in the name of 'justice'."

He shrugs as his thumb brushes Harley's jaw but his eyes don't meet hers. "Then he got a new Robin, and it was like Gotham had spat me out with nothing. So I left. l didn't know who I was... until Superman told me a story of two heroes from his home world, a lot like me and Batman. I figured anyone Superman considered a hero was worth looking up to. But they didn't have bats or robins on Krypton, they had nightwings and flamebirds."

The two of them share a pair of goofy grins, and Harley lets herself admire how pretty Nightwing is. "So, you're a Superman fan?"

This makes Nightwing's smile double in size. "Of course. At first it was just to annoy Br-Batman, but whoever said not to meet your heroes, clearly never met Superman. "

Harley feels his fingers twitch against her hip in excitement and she can't help but get a sort of excited herself. She lifts to her tiptoes and winds both arms around Nightwing's neck. "That cool, huh?"

"Imagine if Mother Theresa had a kid with Andre the Giant. Disarmingly kind, insanely tall, surprisingly funny-" He freezes for a moment when her lips, followed by her tongue, drag against his pulse point, then shudders slightly as he presses nearer. His throat bobs slightly as she noses his jaw. He sighs out a breath and shifts them so her hips are trapped between him and the counter edge. A hand curls into her hair as Harley meets his eyes from bellow her lashes. Seeing all that look promised, Nightwings own eyes darken in something between anticipation and apprehension. "Harley..."

But Harley is already spinning him to press against the counters edge and dropping to her knees. Not sparing a second, she starts shoving his shirt up so she can mouth along the taught muscles of his stomach, reveling in the ways she could make him twitch and hum without even really _touching_ him.

Nightwing is so responsive to everything Harley gives him, it's like nothing she's ever experienced. His stomach flutters under the soft passes of her lips, and when she begins to rub him through his sweatpants, his breathing hitches and he makes these little breathy moans that have her thighs clenching. Harley meets his eyes again as she pulls at his waistband and his shuttered gaze is unreadable. Rubbing him slowly with one hand, her other begins massaging his thighs before migrating to his balls. When she finally takes him in her mouth, Nightwing's head hits her cabinets with an audible _thud_ that she can't help but giggle at. He cusses colorfully as he tries to rein in the impulsive jerk of his hips, and Harley tries to smother a deeper laugh. She teases him with light passes of her tongue until she finds a comfortable rhythm to hollow out her cheeks and take him further.

Nightwing hums her name like something between a curse and a prayer, his hands gently threading into her hair not to control her movements, but just to caress. "Harley..."

"Hmm?" She hums around him and he swears more colorfully than she would have thought possible mere weeks ago. She once again wonders at how responsive, how vocal, Nightwing could be. Not that she had thought of him like this before (okay, she had, but who wouldn't?) but she'd always assumed his repressed, serious personality on the job had meant a repressed, serious fuck. This had been anything but from the start.

"I-" He stutters and marvels when she releases him from her mouth with an obscenely wet noise.

"Bedroom?" Harley is pulled to her feet by Nightwing's hand under her chin as he nods rapidly. He tucks himself back into his pants with one hand as the thumb of his free hand swipes at the accumulated moisture around her bottom lip. Then he's diving in to kiss her off her feet, literally. They stumble their way through the swinging door and rolling one another onto her bed. He's fumbling with her shirt immediately, kissing up her torso as he does and she returns the favor by peppering kisses against any bare skin of his that she can reach.

Harley's mind narrows to the high little whine Nightwing makes in the back of his throat when she sucks just right on his neck. It seriously impedes his efforts to get her top over her head, but she's selfishly selfless in her desperation. It's new territory. It's bad news, probably. But when Nightwing whimpers below her and molds his hands to the skin of her back, a warmth floods her chest like relief. A part of her wants to see them from the outside, all of their history leading to this odd, desperate connection. It's impossible to tell whether this has all been been born out of stupidity, or loneliness, or genuine attraction, and somehow in spite of it all, the thought Harley can't stop from ringing though her head is, _What in the hell took so long?_

It almost breaks Harley's heart that a couple of quick, wonderful, hook-ups are what constitutes as a good relationship in her books. Not that they had a 'relationship'. But had she known she could have had _this_ , she might've changed a major life decision or two (or a thousand) and gotten out of the villainy game sooner. She refused to think of an alternate universe in which they met like normal people. A girl could drive herself crazy thinking like that. Harley should know.

Nightwing twitches against her thigh and she feels herself pulse in response. It's become more akin wrestling at this point, both grappling and grasping for any kind of grip or friction they can get without losing the advantage. When the little whimpers coming from Nightwing being to veer closer to frustrated grunts, Harley abandons his throat to focus on ridding him of the sweatpants that had so delighted her earlier.

He lifts and tilts his hips in a way that's somehow adorable to help Harley de-pants him, and she rewards him with soft, open-mouth kisses up his thighs. Nightwing shudders when she reaches the sensitive skin around his hip bones, but it's nothing to the arch his spine makes when she nips that same skin she had just kisses so softly. She's ready to swallow him whole when he's suddenly grabbing for her waist and pulling until she's straddling him. Again, they work together to wiggle her free of her shorts and then he's hooking an arm under her thigh to slip his fingers into her slick center. Her hum of pleasure is sucked out of her in a heady noise somewhere between a moan and a gasp of surprise when he slides his fingers out of her and sinks her down onto his waiting cock without a moments pause. " _Yes_."

Nightwing's eyes refuse to let hers go. "Yeah?" His question is a murmur against her hyper-sensitive lips. His nose pumps hers as his hands grip her ass and guide her up his length.

Harley bites her lip and nods eagerly and he rewards her with roll to his thrust that snaps their hips together in a way that has Harley seeing stars. She grips his biceps to keep herself together, and to get leverage to drive them together at a glorious pace. Nightwing attacks her neck with his soft lips and softer tongue and a hand flies to his hair. She's little more than writhing on top of him at this point.

Nightwing's own voice is hoarse, little more than a hiss when he moans, "Fuck, just like that, Harley," before taking her breasts in his mouth and hands.

Her name on his lips tips Harley over that cliffs edges she had been teetering on and her orgasm hits her like force of nature. Winds howl in her ears, lightning cracks under her skin, and Nightwing's strong hands cradling her face is all that tethers her as she pulses around him. She's gasping, near hyperventilating, but she had a desperate need to feel him and foolishly- "come inside me," she whines, bucking her hips with what little was left of her strength. They'd done it without thinking twice now, but with him looking at her with those sweet eyes full of wonder and - god damn her - _affection_ , she just wanted them to claim each other with purpose.

The wonder in Nightwing's eyes shifts to surprise, then determination, as he rolls her beneath him to fuck her through the final waves of her orgasm and into his own, his teeth digging into the flesh of her thumb as he grunts and spends inside her. As he did with her, Harley strokes his cheeks and jaw while he comes.

She feels... a lot. Warm, high, light headed. And then both utterly filled, and yet empty as he pulls from inside her and lowers himself onto his side.

Harley marvels at his seeming lack of exhaustion, but her body tensing as Nightwing begins to stroke her hair behind her ear. He isn't moving to strike her, or pin her down for more, or even moving to get dressed. In fact, he's rolling further into her bed, practically on his stomach as his arm drapes her chest and his fingers toy with her long locks of blonde hair.

"You okay?" His voice is hushed as his hands trail to massage the muscles of her neck, then her shoulders. Harley hums the positive and resists the urge to nuzzle into his touch like a puppy. Still in that soft voice, "You were amazing. You amaze me every time I see you these days."

Half asleep as his near hand works the sore muscles of her thighs, Harley mumbles, "You've always amazed me."

She feels Nightwing's lips on her shoulder. "You're tired. You can sleep, Harley."

"Let me guess, you'll keep me safe?"

Nightwing snorts. "You're the one with the drawer of knives by the bed."

"You're staying, though?"

Nightwing sighs heavily through his nose. "I can't promise I'll be here in the morning."

"Will you stay as long as you can?" Harley's eyelids are concrete as she struggles to talk with any sense of coherency.

Nightwing's fingers brush through her hair again, and this time she's the one who sighs. "As long as I can."


	7. Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys, i'm perpetually influenced by my surroundings and lately those surroundings have been the cold lifeless jaws of retail. 
> 
> Regardless, enjoy!!
> 
> Chapter title: Afraid by The Neighbourhood

The next morning Nighwing is, indeed, gone. Harley awakens to her fingers curled into the cold, rumpled sheets where he had slept, disappointed but unsurprised. She wouldn't even be surprised if he hadn't slept at all.

 

What does surprise her, however, is the sharp clearing of a throat by the window. Harley whirls, only half tangled in blankets, switchblade already pulled from between the headboard and the mattress to face her intruder.

 

There, gazing melodramatically out _her_ window, inside of _her_ apartment, is Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin. It might as well be a ghost. He gives a small sigh and turns a deceptively pleasant, if not slightly weary, smile in her direction. "Hmmm. Harley."

 

Harley's already on the move, having rolled off the mattress, she's sizing him up from the far side of her bed. Her assessment tells her nothing new; bad leg, stiff shoulder, spade feet. His umbrella, however, looks new. The once hooked handle has been replaced with one that resembles an old, ornate cane. It looks all metal and gemstone- heavy, dangerous. One blow could break a leg if she isn't careful.

 

"Whatcha doing here, Oswald?" She goes for his given name, knowing he hated the name 'Penguin', only taking it on to build the myth. Joker always told her that in Gotham the myth mattered more than the man. "You can't kill an idea, kid," he'd always laugh in her face.

 

"One of my men came home rather worse-for-wear the other night. Didn't you get my invitation?"

 

"Your invitations always come with an armed escort?"

 

"A protective measure, of course. And necessary, it would seem. He tells me Nightwing made off with you," his tone holds an ironic amount of mockery for someone called 'penguin', "You fight off my men, but allow yourself to be made a damsel for Batman's brood?"

 

Harley's heart stutters at the mention of Nightwing, a feeling she'll have to sort out the meaning of later. For now, Oswald can't know, and she can't let him figure it out. "I told your goon, Oz. I'm out. Clean slate and all that. As far as Nightwig was concerned he was helping an average Gotham citizen."

 

" _Wing_. And we both know that's not how this works. It's us or them. The Joker-"

 

Harley snaps at the name. "Yeah, well, I lost my taste for puddin'. That means I'm not a 'you' or a 'them'."

 

Penguin's patients snaps; Harley always had a way of cutting through his gentlemen's façade. He points his umbrella at her like a gun. "Then you're just another Gotham mutt waiting to be put down."

 

"Better than being Mr. J's kicked puppy."

 

Penguins face spasms with something like rage or frustration before he takes a calming breath, and the 'gentleman' returns. "I won't pretend to understand you and the Jokers... _relationship_. But all of the men I send to contact him don't return, and as I'm sure you know questioning his men isn't exactly helpful. I need to parley with him. Soon."

 

Harley snorts at this, despite the anger coiling in her chest like a snake. "I don't know how many times I can say it Oswald, Joker and I are done. I haven't seen the creep in months." Something like confusion flickers over the Penguins face but she plows forward, shoving down her rage and gesturing toward the door. "I can't help you. Next time you want a friendly chat, try the phone. Pam and I would love to have a third at our brunches." Her and Pam are still warming up to one another again since the encounter with Batman, but Harley hopes mentioning the villainess will at least give Penguin pause. No such luck.

 

Oswald only calculates his options for a moment before he appears to settle on a decision. "There's something you should see. Come."

 

It's the command in his tone, the way he turns his back to her, leaving no room for arguments, that breaks Harley's hold on her feelings. "No!" Her heartbeat is ringing in her ears and a voice in her head is taunting her, _pushover, pathetic, nothing without someone to follow._ "No. I'm not- I'm not a sidekick anymore. I'm not special, I don't have superpowers- anything I can do could be done by a half a dozen people in Gotham alone. So _find someone else_. I'm not playing lackey for you or anyone else ever again."

 

Penguins face is blotchy with rage as he stalks closer, pointed nose right in her face. His voice is a low hiss, in complete contrast to the spit flying from his lips. " _Enough_. No more temper tantrums." He slams his umbrella hard against the floor once, then twice, and then the door explodes inward. Harley tries to move out of range but Penguins umbrella hits the back of her ankles with a bruising force that sweeps her off her feet. Her butt hits the ground just as hard, but she still tries to roll away and scoop up the knife she'd dropped, only for a goon to grab her by both ankles and yank her into reach of the other man who'd come in with him.

 

Being barefoot works to her advantage, she's able to slip a leg free and deliver a kick to one of the men's jaws that sends him stumbling for a few steps, but his partner has her by the waist and now he's coming at her with his full rage. The last thing she sees before she's swallowed by darkness is the ornate metal handle of an umbrella swinging at her head.

 

\------------

 

A throbbing pain near her temple wakes Harley from a dark, empty sleep. Feeling returning to her body is a slow process, leaving her time to catalog her injuries while she feigns unconsciousness. She's still in her pajama bottoms and a t shirt but her body is covered in bruises. Her head, arms, legs, and ribs all feel like a single continuous and sensitive welt. Her wrists are bound behind her, but her legs are free, and her feet still bare. Her mouth is taped, which almost makes her laugh. Penguin always had been easy to irritate.

 

Slowly, Harley cracks an eye open, almost flinching at the sunlight that immediately assaults her. The glimpse was enough to confirm her surroundings; Oswald's mansion. His pudgy dog is there, asleep by her feet and she's sat by a roaring fireplace in the dining room, in spite of the muggy city heat. _Is he seriously,_ Harley can't help but wonder, _blasting the AC just to have an imposing fireside chat in the middle of summer?_

 

Indeed, as she listens, she can hear the click of the ventilation starting.

 

 _Asshole_.

 

Squinting open her other eye Harley slowly lifts her gaze, thankful the curtain of her hair can mask most of her smaller movements. Speaking of, her eye catches a flash of red as her lose hair swings in front of her gaze. Blood. Oswald must have really walloped her. She should probably be tested for a concussion, but what else is new.

 

Shifting her focus, Harley can hear the sounds of frustrated voices coming from the hall beyond the dining rooms doors, Oswald's nasally voice chief among them. Harley always kind of liked Penguin, but he was really testing her amiability by having her beaten up twice within as many weeks, and now kidnapping her. But the voices, if nothing else, tell her she's probably alone.

 

Raising her head minutely towards the door, she confirms that the only guard is Edward the bulldog, snoozing gently by her bare toes. She inches her foot ward and pokes him by the armpit, and he flops further onto his side, stretching for further affection. _Perfect_. Harley had always been a dog person. She's still frequently tempted find the zoo they'd sent her baby boys to, but she'd accepted long ago hyenas aren't apartment pets.

 

Anyways, Harley hopes Ed the dog can help her out by staying quiet, and he seems content to do so. Next, her release. She's eyeing the table for a set of silverware when the door flies open and she doesn't have time to return to her slumped position before the Penguin is storming toward her, a touch screen tablet clutched in hand.

 

"Finally," He seethes. "Now listening clearly does not work for you so how about watching?"

 

Harley spits a curse at him, forgetting the tape on her mouth in her anger.

 

Oswald grabs her by the hair. "Watch. And then you're free to go. I'll even call you a cab." And then he's pressing play and jamming the screen in her face.

 

It's simple enough at first. Security footage, dated from just under a month ago. Before her run in with Penguins goon and her second romp with Nightwing. Momentarily, she mourns the idea of saying _'romp with Robin'_ , but moves on quickly as a shadow flickers near the corner of the screen.

 

Still simple enough, a flash of white and some shifting among the three guards standing in formation outside of a warehouses door. Then, a flash of red and white, and one of the guards saunters forward, only for a baseball bat to slam into the side of his head.

 

Then, Harley Quinn slinks into frame.

 

But it isn't _her_. Harley that is. Harleen. But it is, it's her old, cartoonish jester costume, only her mallet has been replaced with one of her more gruesome personalized bats. Horror curls in her gut. She doesn't know what this means but she does and it's tearing her mind apart.

 

On screen, Not-Harley clumsily takes on the second guard. The doppelgänger almost going down when the third jumps in, but a few solid hit from her bat- no _Harley's_ bat (god, can she even claim it if she abandoned it with her life of crime?) and they're taken care of. And then, Harley, the real Harley, her heart gives out. Because the Joker strolls into the cameras view, barks a few words, and then fake-Harley bounds over and waves cheerily at the camera before smashing it.

 

Harley's mind is her own worst nightmare. He replaced her? Confusion, hurt, jealousy, guilt, anger; all war for dominance before they form a single rotting ache in her gut.

 

Penguin pulls away and her vision should refocus but it doesn't. Her body just... can't. She hears Oswald talk but can't process the words. Eventually, he turns and snaps at someone else in the room and then she's being yanked to her feet by henchmen. Harley is shuffled to the front door then packed into a car, still flanked by guards. One of the men start poking her cheek before the driver snaps at him and then it's quiet again.

 

They pull up to her building. They walk her to her door. They watch her go inside. They don't see Harleen Quinzel collapse on the other side.

 

They don't see her stay there for a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Edward the Dog is canon here don't @ me.  
> Consumers of Batman: White Night might recognize the Two Harley's storyline, thought it'd be an interesting twist to give my Harley in her healing process, let me know what you think!


	8. Hearts a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley needs to get out of bed. She can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too long a wait for this one! Next one is introducing a character i'm a little nervous to write so it might take a little longer but also i'm having so much fun writing them it might be just write itself in a timely manner. 
> 
> Chapter title: Hearts a Mess by Gotye

 

 

Harley doesn't remember pulling herself off of the floor and to her bed, but she must have at some point because her pillows are all that block the sunlight streaming through her window. She'd never gotten curtains to block out the light, her therapist thought it might encourage isolation and oversleeping. She had told Harley she didn't need to live in the shadows any longer. 

 

She hasn't seen her therapist in over a week. They were supposed to meet twice by now, and she's blown off each appointment in favor of- surprise- isolating herself and oversleeping. Her phone went off the first few days, but it must have died eventually, because the ringing stopped. At first she feels a pang of curiosity about whether Nightwing had been reaching out, but the hurricane of her emotions washes it away as quick as it comes. 

 

It's been over a week since she saw him last. Over a week since he showed her under his mask and stayed the night. Over a week since Penguin showed her an imposter in her clothes, with the man she swore (hoped) she'd never see again. A part of her, ragged and howling, keeps screaming that- that it's her  _name_.  Not her real name, of course, but Harley could never go back to being Harleen, and now she couldn't be Harley. Because The Joker had stripped it away from her. Of all the times he's beaten and stripped her bare (physically or with words) she had never felt so humiliated, so... replaceable. In spite of what she had told Oswald before about finding someone else. 

 

There's a knock at her door. 

 

Harley burrows further under her covers. 

 

\--------------

 

It's not long before the pounding at her door returns. Or maybe it's another week. Harley recounts when her stomach starting aching from hunger, and estimates no more than three days. Meaning it had been at least ten days since she had done more than crawl to the bathroom and back. 

 

This time, however, it's quickly followed by soft scuffling, then the locks click open. Harley can't bring herself to care. Maybe it's Joker, coming to tie up a lose end. 

 

She hears the flip of the switch, but no light penetrates her nest of pillows and blankets. She lets out of faint grunt of irritation, or maybe it's worry. 

 

Rushed footsteps, then someone is tossing pillows to the side, brushing her hair from her face. She cringes away from a caress of her cheek, but opens her eyes nonetheless. " _Jesus_ , Harley." 

 

Nightwing. 

 

Harley can feel her face crumble as a sob climbs her throat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

 

He shushes her gently and starts pulling back blankets, revealing the pajamas she didn't doubt his keen memory picked up as being the same ones she had had on the last time they'd seen each other. "Br-Batman. Her head." 

 

It's then, as Nightwing pulls her into a sitting position, still crouched by her bedside, that Harley realizes he's not alone. Sure enough, Batman's dark form is studying her by the foot of the bed.  _My head?_ Right. She'd seen the bloodstain in her hair before she'd seen her worst nightmare. 

 

Harley shakes her head violently at Nightwing despite the pain that throbs through her skull. If he's seen the other Harley in action, he has to know- he has to believe- it wasn't her. But why would he bring Batman otherwise? All that comes out is a pitiful, "I didn't do it."

 

"I know." Nightwing's voice is soft, the way he only talked when they were alone together. Her eyes flicker to the man dressed as a bat in the corner. " _We_ know, Harley."

 

An ugly, humorless laugh bubbles out of her. She feels so cold outside her cocoon. "Not Harley."

 

Nightwing has her by the jaw then, forcing her gaze from her lap to his dark eyes. "Yes, you are. Not some stranger in a costume. You." 

 

"We should check that wound." Batman's voice is clipped, as usual, but there's a deeper strain there. Worry? No, his eyes aren't on her, but Nightwing. His son, it hits Harley, really hits her, fully for the first time. In an odd way, it's comforting. A reminder that Nightwing has seen her looking a lot worse than a few days bedhead and tears. 

 

"Yeah," It's like Nightwing had almost forgotten, despite his gaze sticking stubbornly to her face. "Yeah, uh, are you still against hospitals, Harl?"

 

She thinks of all the connections Joker has. Policemen, doctors, anyone could be bought. All she has to do is lift her gaze to Nightwing's and he's nodding. "Okay, no hospital." His hands start to rub warmth into her arms, seemingly absentminded in his actions. He looks to Batman. "There's just a first aid kit." 

 

Batman looks, for the life of him, to wish he did not have children. He pinches his nose for a moment, then drops his hand and storms closer. Nightwing's hands on her are the only thing that stops her from skittering back out of reach. "Easy, Br-"

 

"Believe it or not," Batman grunts as he lowers himself to sit next to her on the bed. "I do have a bedside manner."

 

Harley wants to marvel at the derisive snort Nightwing gives at that, but Batman is pulling off his gloves, and she realizes with a start that she's never seen them before. They look... normal? Harley doesn't know. She can't analyze with her emotions like this and Nightwing crouched in front of her, brow furrowed with concern. 

 

Harley can't remember the last time someone was concerned for her instead of because of her. 

 

Batman's hands are gentle when he starts to prod at the knot on her head, made worse by the knot in her hair. Near her feet, Nightwing seems to be cataloguing bruises. In unison, they look at one another. Batman sighs again. "Get her cleaned up. I'll have the old man bring supplies."

 

"You're the old man," Nightwing attempts to lighten the mood, but Batman is still watching him with a careful gaze. Nightwing cups her cheek, then uses his free hand to take hers. "How does a shower sound, Harley?" 

 

It doesn't sound good, but it doesn't sound bad. She allows herself to be pulled to her feet. He grabs her robe from where it had been thrown over her closet door before guiding her to the bathroom and shutting the door. 

 

Nightwing is a machine in constant motion. Without pause he starts fussing with the shower and finding her a towel. When he turns back to her, he seems surprised to find Harley still clothed. "Harley..."

 

All it takes is her name from his lips and a sob wracks her body. She's crumbling, curling in on herself like a dying thing. Nightwing wraps her in a warm embrace, stroking her hair. "Hey, hey, no, it'll be okay, Harl. We're going to take care of you."

 

His words only serve to fuel her anguish. Why is she so upset? Why does this hurt so bad? Guilt burns through her, as it has been for days now. Still, Nightwing holds her, and continues to do so until her breathing slows. By then steam is billowing through the small space. 

 

When he shifts away, he still keeps touching her with gentle hands and she feels so undeserving of this care and attention. His long fingers stroke her back. "Can I help you undress?" 

 

Harley simply nods, mute. Her legs feel like jell-o from lack of use and her head is full of cotton. Nightwing pulls back further, hands trailing her arms before raising them above Harley's head. The first thing she feels in days is crackle of electricity - muted and buried, but there - when his fingers brush her waist in search of the hem of her shirt.

 

Nightwing hisses though his teeth at the bruises and cuts covering her. Then, he undresses her like a child, and Harley's heart aches harder thinking how she never got that with Lucy. Words spill out from the crack in her heart. "I have a daughter."

 

Nightwing eyes snap to Harley's, but hers are trained keenly on a crack in the floor tile. She feels her arms curl around herself. "What if it happens to her?" Now she can't look anywhere but his eyes, so full of emotion she's amazed he can ever mask what he's feeling. His fingers stroke her shoulder, grazing the heart on her collar bone. The one for his brother.  _Kill me._ "He doesn't have limits. What he'd do to a  baby- "

 

"We think we know the girl's name. We'll stop this Harley. Get them both in Arkham where they belong." Harley shudders at the name. Arkham. It's a fifty-fifty shot between getting helped and abused in a place like that on a good day. A frown pulls Nightwing's mouth. "I know. Batgirl's been working on cleaning the place up. Making it handicap accessible, new staff training, the works. It's not perfect but it's better than it was." 

 

Harley just nods. They know the Other Harley's name. Harley needs to get it together if she's going to help. First things first; shower. She uncrosses her arms despite the protests of her mind and muscles, and reaches to push at her pants. Nightwing drops to his knees to help her lift each leg out of the fabric pooled on the floor. Then he's pulling back her curtain and helping her in, only to quickly strip and follow her into the tub. Harley wishes he wasn't wearing his mask. 

 

"Sorry, Batman's a stickler for the mask." Harley didn't realize she had raised her fingers to trace along his cheekbone. Still, he presses his face against her palm and places a kiss there. "I was worried about you. I still am."

 

"I'm s-"

 

"Don't apologize to me. Just tell me how you're doing." 

 

Harley's face contorts when she tries to find the words. Eventually she huffs a sigh. "Not good. Worse still because I know I shouldn't be upset. I left and I'm happy I did, but..."

 

"But you gave most of your prime years to a man who abused you. That lingers. You don't have to feel guilty for that. He should."

 

"He never will though." Nightwing frowns, but doesn't disagree. The validation hardens Harley's resolve. She reaches a shaky hand for the shampoo, and Nightwing helps her clean around the wound on the top of her head. 

 

Harley rests her hands on his hips as he massages her scalp and she notices his cock twitch when she starts rubbing circles by his pelvis. However, when she slides her hands towards his thighs, Nightwing's hands are on hers lighting fast. She almost flinches from the speed at which he moves alone. Gently, he returns her hands to his hips, a little closer to his ribs. "How about we keep it above the waist tonight, huh, Harley?"

 

Both pleasure and disappointment bubble in her gut. Harley's so raw she can't help but spill out like a punctured water ballon. "I haven't felt anything for days... I guess I'm just looking for what we had that first night. And that's not fair to you."

 

"This... whatever this is, is always on your terms. If you want me to fuck you, I can do that. If you want me to do more, or less, I can do that, too."

 

The urge to jump him has Harley curling her toes against the porcelain floor of the tub, reason the only thing holding her back. "You deserve consistency, though. You're not a... a sex toy. I want to feel something with  _you_ ,  not just some random fuck." Harley relaxes her muscles and leans a cheek against Nightwing's chest with a sigh. "You're right. As always. You're an annoyingly good person sometimes, Nightwing."

 

Nightwing ducks to rests his head against Harley's, carefully avoiding her wound. "You're a good person too, Harley. You just don't see it yet."


End file.
